A Friendly Demonstration
by byrhthelm
Summary: Harm settles in to his new billet in a foreign country.
1. Chapter 1

**A Friendly Demonstration  
Chapter 1**

**A/N: ** I decided to try for an image for this story. But I thought that my choice might confuse some of you a little. The image is of WRNS Second Office Anne Davies, in WW2 WRNS Uniform, who in this story is Gillian Shephard's Paternal Grandmother (Davies was her maiden name), and to a great extent the inspiration for both Gill and this story.**  
**

xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx

Gilly Shephard scowled at her telephone as its insistent double ring broke into her concentration. Sighing she pushed the 98 (Seringapatam) Battery Canteen Account book to one side – she hated audit time, it barely seemed to have been finalised before the next quarter had rolled around and it was time to do it all over again.

"Captain Shephard," she said into the mouthpiece.

"Hi, Gill, it's Tony Latham. Can you pop down to RHQ please; the Old Man wants to see you."

"Dammit, Tony, I'm right in the middle of nine eight's audit…"

"Hey don't shoot me, I'm only the messenger. Hey… a thought's just occurred; maybe he wants you to take over as Adj!"

Gill chuckled, "What? After my performance as Ack-Adj? I don't think so! OK, Tony, I'll be there in a few minutes."

Gill locked the account books in her safe, and then clapping her beret on her head she locked her office and pausing briefly by the Battery Office she stuck her head around the door, "I've been summoned to RHQ, Bom," she told Bombardier Walker, the Battery Clerk, "So if the BC comes looking for me…"

"I'll tell him you had a date with a tall dark, not so handsome and not so stranger," 'Johnny' Walker grinned.

"That tongue of yours is going to get you into some deep doo-doo one day, Bombardier," she told him with mock severity.

"Very probably ma'am, and when it comes to my DCM, I'll ask for you to act as the Prisoner's Friend!"

Shaking her head in amused resignation Gill stepped out at a brisk walk heading for Regimental Headquarters, returning the salutes of the assorted soldiery she passed on the way.

Stepping in through the double doors, she turned right into the long corridor lined with doors to the right but with just the door to the Orderly Room and the Chief Clerk's office to the left, before she passed through the double glass doors that led to the Adjutant's, Second-in-Command's and the Commanding Officer's offices.

Tapping gently on the Adjutant's door Gill stepped in and rendered a salute, "Well here I am, Tony… Good Morning, Sue," the extra greeting for the benefit of Sue Marshall, the Lieutenant who two years ago had succeed Gill as Assistant Adjutant on Gill's promotion to Captain

Tony Latham got to his feet, "I'll let him know you've arrived, Gill." He tapped quietly on the connecting door to the CO's office and paused briefly before entering.

"So, Gill, how's life with One Seven Four?"

"Pretty good," Gill smiled, "But it would be better if wasn't for the damned audits!"

Sue grimaced, "I know exactly what you mean; I'm on the reviewing board with Harry Tucker and Simon Jackson!"

Gill winced, "The QM and the Paymaster on the same board? You must really have upset somebody!"

Sue nodded a rueful grin appearing on her face, "Yeah, I did… it's the fallout from the last Ladies' Dinner Night!"

Gill grinned in sympathy but before she could make any reply, the connecting door re-opened, and was held open by Tony Latham.

"Go on in, Gill," he said quietly.

Gill nodded her acknowledgement and entered the CO's Office, halting in front of his desk. "Good morning, Colonel, you wanted to see me?"

"Yes, Gill, I did…" Lieutenant Colonel Michael Harrington rose to his feet even as Gill spoke. He was a tall man, easily topping six feet two inches, made to seem even taller by his spare frame. What hair he had remaining was so dark as to almost be black, and with his beak of a nose he reminded Gill of some sort of Eagle. Maybe a Bald Eagle she had once, giggling silently, told herself.

"Take a pew, Gill," Colonel Mike said affably, as he perched on the corner of his desk and picked up a sheet of paper.

Gill sat down as she'd been invited, a vertical crease appearing between her brows.

Colonel Mike looked at her and smiled reassuringly, "Don't look so worried, it's not really bad news, just damned inconvenient." He took a breath, "Larkhill Day, next month…"

"Yes Colonel? I thought we'd dodged that bullet this year?"

"Most of us have! You unfortunately haven't. It seems that our colonial cousins from across the pond have appointed some new Navy Type to head up their Legal Services in Europe. Their Embassy approached the MOD asking that he be given a Cook's Tour of our forces to help get the bigger picture. The Army Board have been given this… Captain Rabb… to look after for a week, and some bright spark decided that as Larkhill Day falls within our allotted week that the Gunners should look after him for a couple of days. You know the sort of thing, take him down for Larkhill Day let him watch the fireworks and comment that the Yanks do it better."

Gill nodded her understanding but the frown remained in place, "But what's this got to do with me, Colonel…" and then the penny dropped, "Oh, no, please Colonel, I'll be right in the middle of packing for my posting!"

"I'm sorry Gill," her CO spoke sympathetically, "but the Army Board passed it to the DRA and as you so rightly said, we are not involved in this year's show, so the DRA passed the buck to me, and it is precisely just because you'll be leaving us so soon that you are the one officer I can spare to baby-sit this American matelot. I'll have Tony speak to Gregory Morrison and make sure that you and he complete the handover/takeover as One Seven Four's BK before you leave for darkest Wiltshire!"

Gill had no option but say "Yes, sir!"

"Cheer up, Gill, it's only two days. Combat kit for the day and Mess Kit for the evening. Tony will make sure you're both booked into the RA Mess overnight, and you know it will be a damn good dinner!"

'Yes, it will be a damn' good dinner, and a damn' expensive one, and it will end up on my damn' Mess Bill!' Gill thought bitterly as she stood, recognising the note of dismissal, "Very good, sir!"

Colonel Mike nodded, "It's a rough duty Gill, especially considering Five Four Regiment's OP Party, but despite our feelings, we still have to play nice with the Americans!" He drew a breath before adding in a more conversational tone, "Tony will issue joining instructions by the end of the week!"

"Yes, Colonel."

xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx

The United States Navy Attaché for the United States of America Embassy to the Court of Saint James, Rear Admiral John Joseph Taylor III, glared across the desk at the junior officer who had just been openly insubordinate.

"Suck it up, sailor!" he growled, his jowls wobbling as he spoke. "You have received your orders, and you will attend this damn dog and pony show! Understood?"

"Yes sir!" Captain Harmon Rabb snapped in response to the question.

Admiral Taylor seemed to deflate as he sank back in his chair, "At ease, Captain… Look, I know you've barely set foot on this crummy little island; I know that you are still trying to find your feet in your first command. I know that your XO's position has been gapped for the last God knows how many years and that you still need to get know your staff… Not just those in your building but those deployed as well! But remember, it's not just a career in the Navy, Rabb, it's an adventure!" Taylor thought for a moment as faint memories coalesced, "Hell, you should know that Rabb! Weren't you once, literally, the Navy's poster boy?"

Rabb winced, yes, thanks to Renee Peterson and her damned Navy advert campaign! He drew a deep breath and tried again, but this time in a more conciliatory mode, "Yes, sir. But I really don't see how this 'adventure' can be of any relevance. I mean what does our Navy have to do with the British Army?"

Taylor looked across the table at Rabb, he was trying his hardest to treat the officer opposite as a Captain in the United States Navy, but the younger man's petulant attitude was beginning to get on his nerves. Still…"Rabb, although the British Government have stuck by us, both in Afghanistan and Iraq, the great British public aren't so enamoured of our policies. They also dislike seeing flag-draped coffins coming home from a war in which they feel their country should not be involved. And it doesn't help when five of those coffins that will be arriving in the next couple of days were the result of a misdirected strike by a squadron of Hornets!"

Harm groaned, "Blue on blue, sir?"

Taylor nodded, "Exactly that!"

Harm foresaw a nightmare for him and his staff if this was an error involving aircraft from any ship forming part of US Naval Forces, Europe, a theatre designation that covered the Mediterranean and could quite easily involve aircraft from ships deployed in that sea.

"No, don't worry about this one from your perspective, Rabb. "The Hornets were from…" he glanced at a sheet of paper on his blotter… "The 'Razorbacks', VMF/A 833 flying off the Iron Ike out of the Indian Ocean, so this headache will fall to either the Fleet JAG, or more likely, given its nature and serious consequences to HQ JAG Pacific at Pearl!"

"So… you have been nominated to attend this Artillery display for two reasons. One, it was an Artillery recon group that got hit by the Jarheads, so your presence will hopefully restore peace and harmony to the 'special relationship' between our two countries armed forces, and two you are a pilot as well as a lawyer, so you can bring a unique perspective to bear and if asked you will be able – diplomatically, and without prejudice, remember – to try and explain the difficulties faced by pilots and controllers in trying positively to identify targets at night in extremely rough country, particularly when said pilots and controllers are unaware that there are friendly forces in the vicinity!"

Harm nodded as the gravity of the situation dawned on him, "I see sir, so I'm to make nice and let myself be the whipping boy?"

"Just so," Taylor nodded, setting his jowls wobbling again. "However, I understand it's not all bad news. The Brits are usually well behaved, so I wouldn't expect anyone to get physically violent." He paused for effect, "Anyone! Do I make myself clear, Captain?"

"Yes, sir!"

"Good! Now, from what I understand, the whole affair takes two days and it's down in Wiltshire, that's about eighty miles south west of here and you'll be accommodated in the Royal Artillery Mess. The junket involves a formal Mess Dinner so you'll need Woodland BDUs for the day and Summer Mess Dress for the dinner. I'll have my Yeoman send over the full details of dates and timings once their Ministry of Defence have got their asses in gear!"

Harm nodded in acknowledgement. He still didn't like the idea, but now that the circumstances had been explained, he could see some sort of reason as to why he had been selected for this tricky duty. "Aye, aye, Sir! Permission to dismiss, sir?"

"Yes, go ahead Rabb, Dismiss!"

xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx

Gill Shephard walked briskly back to Battery Headquarters, "Anything earth-shattering happen while I was gone Bombardier?" she asked as she stopped at the Battery Office's open door.

"Not a lot, ma'am, "Johnny Walker replied with his lazy grin, "But the BQ says he needs to see you at your convenience."

"In just those words, Bom?" Gill asked as her eyes twinkled with amusement.

"Er… no ma'am, not quite. I took the liberty of paraphrasing!"

"Yes, I thought you might have! Let him know I'm back please!" Gill threw over her shoulder as she headed down the corridor her grin still on her face. Staff Sergeant James, Jesse to practically everybody in the Regiment, was a damn good BQMS, but he was also one of the last of the dinosaurs, who still hadn't fully adjusted to the presence of women in the Gunners. Doubtless his message for her had been couched in less salubrious terms than the carefully edited version just delivered by Bombardier Walker.

Just as she reached her office door, a thought struck her, and she retraced her steps to the Battery Office, "Bombardier, dig through the KAPE files please and come up with everything you can on next month's Larkhill Day, please."

"Larkhill Day, ma'am? I thought we'd skived off from that this year!"

"You have; I haven't!" And as she saw the question forming on his face she added, "I'll tell you all about it later!"

xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx

Harmon Rabb returned to his own office in an Annexe to the Embassy proper, to be greeted by a cry of "Captain on Deck!" as he entered the bull-pen, a smaller version of the same room at Falls Church, staffed with no more than a dozen Yeoman, Legalmen and two Personnel Specialists. His own Yeoman had a desk in a small office leading to the JAG's just off the bull-pen and rose to her feet as her chief entered.

"Anything come in Martinez?"

"Nothing much sir, just a couple of messages, one from Falls Church, saying that the JAG would call at thirteen hundred Zulu, and would appreciate it if you be at your desk at that time!"

"H'mm… did he say what he wanted to speak about?"

"No sir!" the young woman replied

"Anything else?"

"Yes sir, the other message was from Miss Coates at Blacksburg… she said it was good news and that she'd call back later!"

Harm let out a breath he didn't even know he's been holding. It was the same every time Jen Coates called, he expected to hear that Mattie Grace had had some sort of set-back; Jen had scolded him time after time, telling him to adopt a more Positive Mental Attitude, and each time Harm had tried to explain that his training as a pilot led him to prepare for the worst and that was the best way to avoid unwelcome surprises. He grinned to himself as he recalled Jen's exasperated reply the last time he had trotted out that excuse, "Well, Mattie's not one of your damned Tomcats - sir!" the young woman had retorted.

Martinez saw the grin on Harm's face, "Sir?" she queried.

"Nothing, Yeoman Two," he answered and then his grin faded as he eyed her speculatively, "You do realise that Jennifer Coates is a Petty Officer Legalman, don't you?"

"Yes, sir, why?"

"You keep referring to her as Miss Coates… If she were here, I don't think she'd even react to that…"

"Oh… " Julia Martinez flushed, "It's just that she doesn't sound like she's Navy, sir… she sounds…" the brunette shrugged, "I dunno, sir… she just sounds different."

Harm couldn't fight the smile any longer, "That she is, Yeoman, that she is…" 'In fact she's so totally different, she's unique!' He continued to eye his Yeoman gravely and then said, "I've got a couple of jobs for you. Firstly, find out all you can about Larkhill Day, it's scheduled for next month…"

"Larkhill Day, Sir?"

"Yes, it's some sort of British Army Firepower Demonstration that I've been ordered to attend, and I'd like to know just what I'm getting into!" 'Preparing for the worst again' he chided himself. "And when you've done that see what you can dig up on a Blue on Blue incident involving our forces in the sandbox. Look for anything that happened in the last two weeks, concentrating on air strikes."

"Aye, aye, sir!" Martinez replied, reaching for her keyboard even as she retook her seat.

xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx

Harm's faith in Martinez' ability wasn't misplaced, she found out as much as she could but it took her four days to come up with a report. Harm was sure that Jennifer Coates would have at least halved the time, and he looked forward to the day when she would join him at her new duty station.

Still… it could have been worse; although Cresswell had said that no-one was off-limits when it came to he and Mac choosing staff to accompany them to their new stations, he definitely wasn't happy when Jen had first asked to accompany Mac to San Diego and then changed her mind to stay in Falls Church, and then later yet had unhesitatingly jumped at the chance to follow Harm to London.

And Mac… that was an entirely different matter… For years he had believed himself in love with her, and despite all the fluctuations in their Relationship and working partnership he had believed that she loved him… and then on that fateful night before they had both left the DC area she had visited him in his loft apartment, and he… had finally said those three little words to her that she had been aching to hear. He had said "I love you," but to his dismay, and despite the searing kiss they had just shared, she had been unable to say them back. He had pressed her and she had finally answered, but he had seen the dawning realisation in her eyes even before she spoke, and for an instant he had felt as if he had been kicked in the stomach.

She had looked at him in… horror? And had said, "Oh God, Harm… I thought I loved you… For years I've thought I loved you … but… I've just discovered… I don't!"

She had raised a hand to cup his face as she said, "Oh Harm… I'm so sorry… I didn't mean…"

All he had been able to do was stand there, speechless until her fingers made contact with his face, and then he jumped as if burned. Mac saw the desolation in his eyes masked as his emotional shutters came crashing down, "You… you… you'd better leave, Mac," he'd said in a level voice.

But Mac had stood her ground, "Harm…"

But he had interrupted her, "Mac… please…"

Mac had bowed to the inevitable, she had turned and walked out of the apartment, desperately sorry to have caused her friend so much pain and hoping almost against hope that she wasn't walking completely out of his life.

Harm gave himself a mental shake and returned to his office and the review of a shipboard Special Court Martial. The accused, a Boatswain's Mate Second Class, had been found guilty of Dereliction of Duty and sentenced to six months in the brig, loss of rate down to E-1 and forfeiture of two thirds pay for three months. He was appealing against both finding and sentence, and on a first reading of the file, Harm felt that the unfortunate seaman had good grounds for his appeal.

Harm had already noted that the two attorneys involved in the case, Edwards for the prosecution and McMahon for the defence were both Lieutenants JG barely out of NJS, and had been assigned the case by his predecessor. There was no explanation as to the reasoning behind the choice of attorneys and Harm could only assume that the previous Naval Force Europe JAG had decided that this was simple case where two inexperienced attorneys could sharpen their courtroom skills. That was all well and good, in most cases, but not in cases where, and this looked like one, the accused was deprived of due process. Harm would now have to recommend to the appeals board that they accept this case. Who to detail for the task of presenting could wait until he gotten to know his staff a bit better. Of course, by the time the case was heard by the board, the seaman in question would have been in and out of the brig having served his time. So even if the findings of the court martial were reversed and rate, pay and benefits were restored, nothing would erase the trauma the young man had been put through.

Harm pressed the 'call' button the inter-officer intercom, "Martinez, come on through please, and bring your shorthand pad!"

xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx

Johnny Walker hefted the bundle of internal mail the Battery Runner had just collected from RHQ and nodded in approval. "Thanks Bunny… now how about making yourself really useful: put the kettle on, eh, lad?"

The baby-faced Gunner Warren sighed silently to himself, it looked like the hated nickname was going to stick, so he might as well get used to it! "OK, Bom," he replied and grabbed the battered electric kettle from the tray on top of the filing cabinet and disappeared to fill it with water.

Walker quickly sorted the mail into two piles, one pile was official mail addressed to the Battery Commander, or Battery Captain as the case might be and needed placing on file and flagging for action before forwarding it to its intended recipient. The other pile was for mail intended for a person, rather than an appointment. None today for the BC, but a brown envelope bearing the RHQ date stamp and addressed to "Capt G A Shephard RA", in the Adjutant's distinctive scrawl.

Walker quickly picked out two more official envelopes addressed to WO2 (BSM) Mallory, and quit his office to deliver those items to their intended recipients.

Gill looked up at the double rap on her door, "Come in!"

"This morning's holy writ from Hindquarters, ma'am," Walker said as he proffered the envelope.

"Thank you Bombardier." Gill smiled, almost knocking off Johnny Walker's socks.

"My pleasure, ma'am," her grinned, successfully concealing just what her smile did to him, "I've got Warren making a brew, fancy one?"

"God! Yes, please!"

"Tea or coffee, ma'am?"

Coffee, please." Gill said as Johnny Walker paused by the door for her reply.

Gill's peace was disturbed again some few minutes later by Gunner Warren who delivered her coffee so nervously that she stood to take it from him before he spilled it all over her desk.

Sitting down again she reached for her coffee and then her hand changed direction and she picked up the brown envelope, opened it and took out the single sheet of paper.

Frowning a little at its contents, she picked up the 'phone and dialled Tony Latham's extension.

"Hello, Tony? It's Gill Shephard."

"What can I do for you this morning?" Tony asked with his habitual teasing note in his voice

"Um… I've just received the written briefing for this damn Larkhill Day business. I see that I am to host a Capt H Rabb, USN. Tony, that's the equivalent of a full Colonel… isn't that a bit high-powered company for a Capt RA?"

"If you really want to argue it, Gill," Tony's voice had become quite serious, "I think the Old Man could fit you in at about fourteen thirty hours, but…"

"But what, Tony?" Gill asked impatiently.

"But I really wouldn't recommend rocking the boat, not on this one…"

Gill paused, "He's taking this thing that seriously?" she asked.

"You'd better believe it! So… you'll just have to suffer in silence. Besides, if you can't take a joke…"

"I know, I know," Gill half-laughed as she finished the well-worn saying "I shouldn't have joined!"

"Got it in one! Now is there anything else I can do for you? Us poor overworked Adjutants don't have as much time to sit and gossip as you chaps and chapettes in the batteries!"

"Else?" Gill exclaimed, "You've actually done nothing for me – well, except given me a chuckle!"

"Then my day is made!" Tony grinned.

"Clown!" Gill accused him and with a grin on her face, replaced the phone in its cradle. Right from the start, Tony Latham had let her know that he was attracted to her, and right from the start Gill had let him know that while she was more than happy to have him as a friend, that was as far as their relationship went, or would ever go.

Gill studied her briefing again frowning once more over the rank of the visitor, wishing she knew more about him than just his name and rank. She sat for a while, tapping the folded sheet of paper one hand and then a slow smile spread over her face. She was forgetting an important asset…

"Bom?"

"Yes, ma'am?" Johnny Walker looked up from where he was typing the daily Battery Orders.

"Your int network still up and running?"

"Of course 'tis," he grinned, "who do you want the dirt on this time, ma'am?"

"You make it sound as if I'm looking for some sort of blackmail evidence!" Gill protested.

"Well aren't you, ma'am?"

"No! Merely looking for int, after all, isn't 'know your enemy' still as true today as it was back in the days of Sun Tzu?"

"Sung who, ma'am?"

"Oh, never mind. Look, I've got a bit of a challenge for you; see what you can find out about a US Navy Captain, name of Rabb – two 'B's"

"Rabb, with two 'B's, Captain, Yank Navy. Got it ma'am. I'll get on to it as soon as I finish orders!"

"Thanks, Bom!"

Ten minutes later orders finished and printed, ready for the BC's signature, Johnny Walker turned to the message pad on which he'd scribbled Rabb's name, and threw a quick glance at the clock, 'Fifteen thirty hours… H'mm… So… you think you've set me a challenge, hey? OK, Miss Shephard, let's see…"

xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx

Julia Martinez stretched and looked up from her VDU, thank God it was nearly seventeen hundred hours, and so far Captain Rabb hadn't asked her to work late this evening. He was a nice guy, she supposed, but unlike the previous Force JAG he was single, and didn't seem to care how late he worked. Which as far as she was concerned was fine, but when he worked late, he was getting into the habit of asking Julia to stay as well. 'Asking' she thought indignantly, 'When he knows that a request from a Captain to a Yeoman Two is just the same as a direct order!'

Still, he hadn't said anything today, and if she was lucky, then in ten more minutes… her train of thought was interrupted by the ringing of her phone. A glance at the desk-top switchboard showed her that it was an outside line. 'This probably isn't good,' she told herself resignedly as she reached for the 'phone.

"Naval Force JAG Headquarters, Yeoman Two Martinez speaking, sir!"

"_Um… Good afternoon… I'm trying to reach the office of a Captain Rabb, USN?"_

'A Brit!' Martinez exclaimed silently, 'Unusual! Not unheard of, but unusual!' "You've got the right office, how may I help you?"

"Uh… Yeah, hi, I'm Bombardier Walker, One Seven Four Battery, Three Eight Regiment Royal Artillery. My BK – Battery Captain – has been detailed to host the Captain at the Firepower Demo next month… She's never met him… and she's well… being a woman you can probably appreciate… she's a little bit cautious…?"

"She has nothing to worry about!" Julia snapped, automatically going on to the defensive, "Captain Rabb is an officer and a gentleman!"

"Oh…" Walker hadn't meant to sound accusatory, but he sensed even over the 'phone that the woman… girl? On the other end of the line was unhappy with him, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to give offence, and it's just that there are so many weirdos out there these days that…"

Martinez nearly laughed out loud, the guy was trying to apologise, and all he succeeded in doing was digging himself in deeper "OK," she smiled, "Apology accepted. Just what do you think I can do?"

"Well… have you got any information on him, where he is, what he's done… that sort of thing… anything to give my officer a handle on him…"

"Well, his service record is confidential…" Julia said thoughtfully, and then brightened up slightly, "Look, it won't be the full low down, but there was a PA release when he took up his post, I could send you a copy of that… and… do you have internet access?"

"Yes… why?"

"Look, write down this URL, that'll give you access to the on-line filed copies of the Navy Times. If you enter 'Rabb' into the search box, then you'll be able to access all the public information on the Captain that you'll need."

"That's great, thanks… uh… when can you send me that PA – that's Public…"

"Public Affairs," Julia helped him out.

"Oh, yeah, right. It's PR in our lot! It's just that I'm up against a deadline, here."

"OK, soldier, what's your e-address, and I'll e-mail it right away?"

"Thanks… uh…?"

"Yeoman. Yeoman Two, Julia Martinez." Julia answered.

"Well, thanks… Julia. 'Bye."

"Yeah… bye…" Julia put the 'phone down, and then thought, 'Why did I tell him my full name? Well, he was polite, and he sounded a bit… nervous in a cute kind of way. Oh get over yourself girl! He's probably fat and forty and with bad teeth! But he did sound cute, and he was polite, and he had a nice voice… a bit of a funny accent… but…'

"Is there something amusing you, Martinez?"

Julia shot to her feet, she had been so absorbed in her thoughts she had failed to see that the JAG had quit his office and was standing at her desk

"Uh… No, sir. Sorry sir!"

"Relax Martinez! Just to let you know that I'm securing for the day. I'll see you at oh seven thirty hours tomorrow!"

"Oh seven thirty hours, aye!"

xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx

Gill sat in one of the over-stuffed but remarkably comfortable armchairs in the Mess Ante Room,a glass of tonic water stood on the table that was also littered with the ream of paper that had resulted from her casual challenge to Bombardier Walker. She shook her head in amazement, when would she learn that the artillery clerks' grapevine was about the most efficient intelligence and communications network in the whole damn army! Sure, she like most officers, had come to rely upon and appreciate the unofficial sources of information that the clerks had managed to tap, but on this occasion Gill freely admitted Walker had done himself proud!

Her solitude was interrupted by the arrival of Sue Marshall, who carefully set her own drink down on the table before she plumped down in the armchair opposite.

"What's all this .Gill?" she asked with raised eyebrows, "Surely you're not bringing work into the Mess?"

"Not bloody likely!" Gill grinned, "I learned that lesson a long time ago! I can't afford a round of drinks for all members, these days. Mind you, I couldn't afford it back then, either!"

"So…?" Sue persisted.

"You know I've been lumbered as a baby-sitter for some Yank sailor at Larkhill Day. Well. I got Bombardier Walker to do some digging, and this is what he's come up with!"

Sue picked up a couple of pages that seemed to be printouts of an on-line newspaper and ran her eyes down the page, "Who exactly am I supposed to be looking for?" she asked.

"Captain Harmon Rabb, Junior," Gill said desperately trying not to giggle.

Sue wrinkled her nose, "Funny name," she commented and then caught Gill's eye and both women allowed grins of complicity to flash into being.

Sue became quiet though as she continued to read…"Hey Gill… this guy's a Navy pilot…"

"A Pilot? I thought he was a lawyer?"

"Well, he must be a Pilot…" Sue's voice took on an awed hush, "Gilly… he's got the Yank DFC… and two bars!"

"Here… give me that… H'mm you're right… still…"

"Gill, even the Yanks don't issue DFCs with the rations!"

"No… I suppose not…" And then as Sue gasped again, Gill looked up, "What now?"

"This photograph, Gill! You lucky girl! I hate you! He's gorgeous!"

Gill took the photograph and studied it, taking a sip of tonic before she replied, "Do you really think so?" She shook her head as she continued to look at the picture, "No… he doesn't do anything for me."

Sue looked at her friend in exasperation, "No, of course not!" she said dryly.


	2. Chapter 2

**2**

The next three weeks passed in a blur for Gill, she was more than fully occupied with signing off on the four audits her team had carried out, and then on top of her routine duties she had been busy with the handover/takeover of her duties as Battery Captain, but at last there was a light at the end of the tunnel, and this weekend she could start packing for her move to London.

And that had been problematical, not the move itself, but where she was going to move to, Oh, the office was easy enough, MS6 – the Military Secretary's Office at the Ministry of Defence that regulated Gunner officers' postings, promotions and career paths. No the problem had been where to live.

Gill strolled into the Mess ante-room and then through to the bar, "Good evening Miller," she greeted the Gunner who acted as Mess Barman.

"Good evening, ma'am… the usual?"

"No… not this evening Miller, I'll have a vodka and tonic please, with ice and a twist… oh, and make it a long one, please."

"Coming right up, ma'am…. Celebrating, ma'am?"

Gill chuckled, feeling the tension easing away, "Yes… sort of… most of my hassles are done with, I just need to get on with my packing now… thank you, Miller," she finished as he placed her drink in front of her.

"We'll be sorry to see you go, ma'am," Miller told her earnestly.

Miller's obvious sincerity brought a lump to Gill's throat, and she took a quick sip of her drink before, and in a calculated display of cheerfulness, she answered lightly, "Cheer up, Miller! It's only for two years. I'll be back before you know it!"

Miller grinned, "I'll drink to that ma'am! Or I will, once I'm off-duty!"

Gill smiled, Miller was now HQ Battery but he had been a Gun Number before the prem that killed half of his detachment and injured the others. Miller had had his leg flensed by a shard of red hot metal, and should have been medically discharged, but Colonel James, and then Colonel Mike, had fought tooth and nail to keep him in the army so that he could complete his twenty two and get an immediate pension on discharge.

Gill smiled and nodded in acknowledgement of Miller's quip and tasking her drink, she headed for an armchair in the ante room and a quick scan of the day's newspapers. She had skimmed the headlines earlier, of course, and there were one or two items she wanted to take a closer look at. Settling herself into the depths of one of the chairs, she scooped up a copy of 'The Telegraph' and of 'The Guardian', both of which she knew would carry the stories in which she was interested, but would interpret the facts from opposing ends of the political spectrum.

Gill had immersed herself so thoroughly in her reading that she was unaware that she had company until she heard Sue Marshall's quizzical comment, "Hey Gill… is anybody home?"

Gill looked up from her paper looking slightly bewildered as she returned to her surroundings, "Oh, hello, Sue… I didn't notice you come in…"

Sue laughed, "Gill, you were so absorbed in the papers, that you wouldn't have noticed the massed bands of the Brigade of Guards!"

"Oh, I'm sure I would have!" Gill laughingly protested, "At least once the pipes started up!"

"God, yes! Awful things," Sue replied. "Did you know that back in the eighteenth century they were banned as weapons of war?"

"Oh, Lord," Gill groaned despairingly, "Another piece of useless in formation to clog up my brain cells!" She paused for a moment, biting her lip as a memory stirred, and then grinned mischievously, "Anyway you can't think they're all that bad! I distinctly remember you tripping the light fantastic on Burns' Night!"

"That wasn't the music, darling," Sue adopted a theatrical drawl, "It was the dancing partner!"

"Ah, so that's why you're all togged up!"" Gill grinned, "New dress?"

"Yes… I thought I'd give it an airing."

"For Hamish?" Gill teased her friend.

"Who? Oh… no… not if you mean that chap from Burns' Night, his name was Alexander!" Sue said with great dignity, and then spoiled the effect by giggling and adding "Anyway he's long gone… ancient history!"

"Then who…?"

"This evening, no-one, Gill!" Sue pouted a little, "That's why I decided on a little retail therapy… just to cheer myself up; there seems to be a dearth of good looking, eligible men around at the moment." She suddenly looked slyly at her friend, "Talking of eligible, good looking men… have you spoken to your dishy Yankee sailor yet?"

"Oh, for God's sake, Sue!" Gill exclaimed in exasperation, "Firstly, he's not 'my' sailor; secondly, I've already told you that I don't find him particularly dishy, as you put it! And thirdly why on earth would I want to speak to him?"

"Um… the fact that according to the US Navy Times, he's single, he's only been in the UK for five minutes so probably doesn't know anyone here yet, and the poor thing probably has no idea how to get from Town to here! Least of all if he's got to make an RV with you at some ungodly hour of the morning in time to get to Larkhill for the opening salvo!"

"Sue! He's a Captain in the American Navy! If he can navigate his way around the world's oceans, surely to God he must be capable of finding the road between London and Tidworth!"

Sue caught the warning note in Gill's tone, and although smiling inwardly, while saying to herself 'Methinks the lady doth protest too much!" and smoothly changed the subject.

"Actually, Gill, talking about London, have you managed to sort out your accommodation there yet?"

Gill threw her newspaper onto the table, and leaned back in her chair, "Yes, thank God! But it's been a hassle! You know before they moved everything down to Larkhill, it would have been so simple. I would have been accommodated in 17 Regiment's Mess, but since they closed The Shop, that's not an option anymore, and there's no way I could afford anything but some grotty student bed-sit." Gill grimaced, "For a couple of weeks it looked like I was going to have to move back home with Mummy and Daddy…"

"Would that have been so bad?" Sue asked in some surprise.

"What? Oh, no. Not in that way. It would have been nice to have been spoiled by Mummy and Granny, but it would have meant an hour and a half commute each day into central London and the same back in the evening. Oh, I know it's doable, after all, thousands of people make that journey each day, but I must admit I wasn't looking forward to the prospect!"

"Ouch, no! I wouldn't think so either!"

Gill looked at her friend in some scepticism, "You know, Sue, I have a feeling that you would have been far better suited to this posting that I!"

"Oh… yes…" Sue sighed dreamily, "just think all those fabulous, young, sophisticated, rich bachelors that infest Town!"

"Sue Marshall – you are incorrigible!"

"Oh, I know, I know… Actually, everybody knows that!" Sue admitted cheerfully, "But if you're not commuting what have you fixed up?"

"I haven't fixed anything, Sue. It was all Colonel Mike. He got on to the BC at the Troop, and I shall be living in their Mess at St John's Wood!"

"Oh.. even better!" Sue sighed again, "Not just dishy men, but all those horses too! Absolute heaven for a vicar's daughter, I should think!"

Gill spluttered, but whatever she might have to say was interrupted by the chiming of the dinner bell.

Sue got to her feet, "You are dining in this evening, Gill?"

Gill swallowed the last mouthful of her drink as she too stood and said, "Yes, I am, shall we go in?"

"Um… let's hang back a moment or two…" Sue said.

"Oh why?"

"It looks like Marie Westwood's dining in tonight too, and I'd rather wait until she's seated so I can find somewhere as far away from her as possible!"

"You really don't like her, do you?" Gill grinned.

"God, no! I hate the bitch!"

"Now, now, remember the aim of the mess is to provide an atmosphere of tranquillity where the member s may indulge in amicable social intercourse," Gill mock scolded her friend.

"I shall be as social and as tranquil to whatever extent you might wish, to anyone in the world" Sue said loftily, "Except that bitch!"

"You really must tell me what you've got against her, one day!" Gill chuckled as she nudged Sue in the direction of the dining room.

xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx

Harm put down his pen and picked up his 'phone, seeing as he did so that it was a call from Martinez' extension.

"Yes?" he almost growled.

"Sir, I have Miss Coates calling from Blacksburg on Line Two."

Harm glanced at his watch, it was only ten forty hours, that meant it was zero five forty hours in Blacksburg, 'Oh God, why was Coates calling so early?' "Put her through!" he snapped, once again the cold hand of fear clutching at his stomach.

"Hello, sir?" Coates voice came clearly over the line, despite the three thousand or so miles that separated them.

"Coates! What it is it? What's wrong?"

"Wrong, sir? Nothing's wrong, not with Mattie anyway! She's doing great sir… that's what I wanted to call you about. The doctors say she's almost ready to be released from hospital, and that if she continues to make progress the way she has been doing, she'll be fit enough to travel sometime around Labour Day. The Admiral called in yesterday afternoon, sir. He'll be representing you and Mattie at the adoption hearing, which is Monday next week… Can you get back for then, sir?" Harm could hear the plea in Coates' voice.

"I'm sorry, Coates, I don't think that kite will fly… I'm still reading myself in here… but I'm making plans to get back for July fourth. And, I suppose we'd better start making plans for how I'm going to look after Mattie between now and Labour Day…"

"Oh, no need, sir! Harriet… uh… I mean Lieutenant Sims and Commander Roberts have said they'll be looking after her until she's fit to travel…"

"Coates, that's not good enough… I won't have Harriet and Bud put to any trouble…"

"Um… with respect, sir, it's not up to you, really. Lieutenant Sims has made up the Commander's mind for him!"

Harm couldn't resist a crack of laughter, Coates had just repeated almost word for word Mac's comment about the domestic domination Harriet had achieved over Bud.

"Did I just say something, dumb, sir?" Coates queried anxiously.

"No… not at all, Coates! You just reminded of something somebody else once said. Now, was there anything else?"

"Oh… yes sir. Mattie hasn't got a passport, and we can't find her birth certificate anywhere…"

"That's OK Coates. I've got it. Send me her mug shots and I'll get her passport issued here at the embassy, it'll be easier for me to do it that way around, and besides I wouldn't want her birth certificate to go adrift in the mail!"

"But her passport, sir. You don't mind losing that?" Harm could hear the amusement in Coates' voice and could almost see her dimple-revealing grin.

"It won't go adrift Coates, because I won't send it through the mail, I'll bring it with me when I come over for the fourth!"

"Aye, aye, sir!"

Harm was about to finish the conversation when he was reminded of the foreboding he'd felt when he'd realised how early Coates as calling him, "Coates, what was so urgent that you had to call me at zero dark hundred?"

"Oh… nothing much sir, It's just that I've been ordered to report to General Cresswell at JAG at zero seven thirty hours, sir."

"Why?"

"Uh… it seems that he's concerned that I might be in excess of leave, sir…"

"Coates, you may tell the General, from me, that you are not in excess of leave, and you may also remind him – respectfully – that you are my Yeoman, under my command, and that you are following my orders in being TAD to Blacksburg Hospital. Understood?"

"Aye, aye, Sir!"

"And, Coates… Thanks for calling. You've just about made my day!"

"Yes, sir."

The line went dead and Harm replaced the handset with a smile, the news that Mattie would soon bed out of hospital, although still in a wheelchair – that was a given – was good news, really good news, when he took into consideration that her initial prognosis was that she might never be able to move from her bed. Each time he received progress report she seemed to be getting better, and Harm had just recently allowed himself to envisage a future where she might be able to play volleyball and swim again.

But for the moment she still needed extra care, he would have to call Harriet later and go over certain arrangements with her, for example he would need to hire a hospital type bed for Mattie, and the Roberts would need to install a ramp up to their porch, unless they meant to keep Mats housebound. A mental image of Mattie being kept inside for twenty fours of the day, seven days a week flashed across his mind and brought a rueful grin to his face. Now, that was a kite that definitely wouldn't fly!

He pressed the call button on the intercom, "Martinez, how about a cup of coffee?"

"On it, sir!" Julia replied with an inward sigh of relief. The Captain had been almost surly these last few days and to hear his voice regain that cheerful note was blessed relief. Not that he ever took his bad mood, or temper, or whatever out on his staff, but when the Captain was down it had a sort of … well… suffocating effect on the staff.

Mind, she remembered with a little frisson, he had certainly laid into Lieutenants Tierney and Sullivan yesterday. Not that she blamed him. Those two would be enough to make the Blessed Virgin swear! They just couldn't get on together. They were both good lawyers, or so she'd been led to believe, and their win/lose ratio was way better than the other three attorneys in the office, and when they worked together as a team, they were very good, almost unbeatable, but even then they couldn't stop sniping at each other, but when they were on opposing sides in a case… then wowee!

Of course, the real problem was that they were at least half-way in love with each other, and totally in denial about! What they really needed, in Martinez's humble opinion, was for them to jump each other's bones and get the sexual tension out of their systems, and then either start looking for the suburban house with the white picket fence or just get the hell out of each other's life!

Unknown to Yeoman Two Martinez, the same thought was at that very moment crossing Captain Harmon Rabb's mind as he read through a semi-official complaint from Commander Moseley, the judge for their current case. It appeared that the verbal fireworks between the two Fighting Irish has risen to a crescendo, and they had completed ignored Moseley's demands for order as they stood face to face in the courtroom aisle exchanging 'compliments' as Moseley had expressed it, and only returning to some sense of civilised behaviour when Moseley had instructed one the bailiffs to step between them while he warned them that any more outbursts of the kind in which they had just indulged would certainly see them written up for contempt of court. Temporarily pushing all thoughts of Mattie Grace to the back of his mind Harm drew a breath and decided on just how he was going to deal with his other two, problem, children

He waited until Martinez delivered his coffee to him and then asked, "Pass the word for Lieutenants Tierney and Sullivan, please Yeoman."

"Aye, aye, sir!"

A bare three minutes passed before a sharp double tap on the office doorframe announced the arrival of his visitors, "Enter!" he snapped.

The two errant officers marched the few steps across the carpet to his desk and halted with drill field precision in front of it.

Sullivan, as the slightly senior of the two spoke up, "Lieutenants Tierney and Sullivan, reporting as ordered, sir!" she barked.

Harm sat back in his chair, carefully keeping his face an expressionless mask as he studied the two Lieutenants; both wore the summer whites of Lieutenants in the US Navy, but there all and any similarities in appearance ceased. Theresa Sullivan was not particularly tall for a woman, about five seven, Harm guesstimated, but her slender figure made her seem a bit taller, just about the same height as her companion. Brian Tierney was of the Red Irish, squarely and solidly built, with a pale skin that always seemed to burn and never to tan, rusty red hair and green eyes that under normal circumstances twinkled with good humour, while Sullivan was of that rarest of Irish types, her flawless ivory complexion set off by her jet black hair and deep, deep blue eyes, that again usually held the gleam of amusement.

Harm shook his head, "After I spoke to you yesterday, I had hoped that my words might bear fruit, but today I have received yet another written complaint about your behaviour towards each other," he said sternly. "And this time, I am going to make copies of it and place a copy in each of your jackets. Commander Moseley tells me that he has warned you that if there are any further occurrences of this kind of behaviour he will cite the pair of you as being in contempt. If he feels that it is necessary to do so, rest assured that he will have my full support, and the two of you will then spend seventy hours in confinement on bread and water." He raised a hand to forestall the protests he could see forming on their lips, "Or I will charge you with conduct unbecoming, and convene an article thirty two hearing for each of you."

"Sir!" Sullivan began

"Captain Rabb…" Tierney started

"Lock it up Lieutenants! You are at attention, and I did not give you permission to speak!" Harm barked

The two miscreants fell into silence. Harm looked at them again, each in turn, "Then I will stamp both your jackets, 'not for promotion' send one of you to Keflavik and the other to Adak for the rest of what remains of your miserable careers. Do I make myself clear?"

Harm was displeased by their mumbled replies, "Do I make myself clear!" he yelled at the pair.

This time their chorused, "Sir, yessir!"" rang out loud and clear.

"Good! Now, the first thing that will happen when court reconvenes is that you will both stand up and make a formal apology to Judge Moseley, to the panel and to the court in general. Clear?"

Again the chorus, "Yessir!"!

"Good! Now get out of here!"

Harm watched them carefully as they left, noting the baleful glare they gave each other as Tierney held the door open for Sullivan to precede him.

Sadly he shook his head, there was so much sexual tension between the two that they if they could convert it to electricity, they could probably generate enough power to light the whole of Washington for a week!

xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx

Yeoman Petty Officer Second Class Julia Martinez watched the two lieutenants leave the office and head out across the bull-pen, their body language screaming that neither of them was happy. She shook her head, both officers were normally quietly spoken and pleasant, considerate of the enlisted personnel with whom they worked, and seemed to get on well with everyone – except each other!

Sighing at what seemed to be their wilful blindness, and regretting that there was no such charge in the UCMJ with which to hit them, Julia turned back to her computer and started to enter the last month's court hours onto the spread sheet displayed on her monitor only to be distracted as the 'phone rang.

"Navy Force JAG's office, Yeoman Two Martinez, sir…"

xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx

"Bom,"

"Yes, ma'am?" Johnny Walker put down his mug of coffee and turned his full attention on Captain Shephard, grateful for a chance to get a break from filing the mass of paper that RHQ seemed to think essential for the smooth administration of the regiment. Most of it in his considered opinion could go straight into the waste bag for incineration at a later date.

"Have you got the Larkhill Day file handy?"

"Yes, ma'am, right here… if you'll wait thirty seconds, I just need to file the latest programme update.

Gill waited while the battery clerk carried out his arcane mysteries and then handed her the file, "Oh, and Bom?"

"Yes ma'am?"

"A brew would be good right about now…"

"Yes, ma'am. Do want to wait for five minutes until Lucas gets back from RHQ, or do you want me to make it?"

Gill looked suspiciously at Walker's mug, "Are you still making that industrial grade toxic waste?"

"Yes, ma'am, it's the only way I know how to make it!" Walker said as his eyebrows rose in surprise that she should ask.

Gill visibly shuddered, "I'll wait for Lucas to get back, thanks Bom."

Walker smiled as she left the office, 'Yes! Result!' he silently exulted. He'd saved so many hours of making tea and coffee for officers over the years by the simple expedient of making it so badly that none of them, with the exception of the current BSM would touch it.

Mind you, he reflected, Sergeant Major Mallory was a nutter. A former member of 29 Regiment, he'd once spent some months on detachment with the Yankee Marines and had come to like their version of coffee, which he was forever telling his clerk and his driver was the only way to drink it.

With a look of intense dislike thrown at the stack of paper that remained on his desk Bombardier Walker returned to the much detested task of filing. He was still at it five minutes later when Gunner Lucas entered the office.

Walker looked up at the day's battery runner and noted his empty hands, "Nothing in the pigeon hole, Farmer?' he asked in mild surprise, RHQ had generally pumped out enough bumf, even this early in the day that a trip to the regimental office ought to have yielded some paperwork.

"Dunno, Bom," Farmer Lucas replied in his slow, heavy West Yorkshire accent, "Tha'd said nowt about bringing owt back. I jest took what tha tellt me an' give it to the Chief Clerk."

Johnny Walker closed his eyes in despair, Farmer Lucas was a damn good soldier in the field, but a royal pain the arse in barracks. He was so dense that even the simplest instructions seemed to confuse him. Johnny had almost come to the belief that Lucas' stupidity was a front so that Officers and NCOs would leave him alone, except that the solitary figure of Lucas, sat in the NAAFI Bar with a pint pot looking a shot glass in his massive paw and looking totally bewildered by the light hearted, quick-witted banter around him was a scene that was enacted night after night. Not that anybody made much of it, Lucas was OK sober, but became dangerously aggressive one he'd had a few pints, especially if he thought someone was taking the mickey.

"OK, Farmer, no real harm done. Just means you'll have more to carry on the trip. Now, put on a brew for the BK, would you, NATO standard – that's milk and two sugars, OK?"

"Aye, reet enough, Bom," Farm got to his feet and grabbed the kettle

While Lucas and the kettle were absent, the door opened to re-admit Gill Shephard, "Did I just hear Lucas?" she inquired.

"Yes, ma'am, he's gone to refill the kettle…"

"Oh, good…" Gill replied somewhat absently as she continued to read the file in her hand, "Bom… this letter with the programme, it's been copied to the US Naval Attaché, FAO this Captain Rabb… How long from London to here, do you think, by road?"

"Hour and a half, easy, maybe two hours, depending on traffic, ma'am," Walker replied, not even having to think about the answer.

"And another half hour to the RSA…"

"At least, ma'am."

"And if he comes by train?"

Best bet is either Basingstoke, or Salisbury, ma'am and then it's an hour … if the trains run on time, or there aren't any wet leaves on the tracks, plus another forty minutes from the station to Larkhill…"

"H'mm… when you got me that gen on him you spoke to his office didn't you?"

"Uh yes ma'am to his clerk… a Yeoman Martinez…"

Gill nodded thoughtfully, "Well… can you get hold of him again… and find out how Captain Rabb intends to travel?"

"Her, ma'am," Walker replied.

"Her?" Gill was slightly taken aback by Walker's seeming non-sequitur.

"Yes, ma'am, her. Martinez is a female, ma'am." Walker managed to keep a straight face. Of all the officers to fall into the trap of gender stereotyping, Captain Shephard would never have made it into the top half of his list.

"Well…" Gill felt the blood rise to her cheeks, "See if you can get hold of her again, please, Bom, and find out how Captain Rabb is planning to travel."

"Yes, ma'am!" Johnny Walker couldn't suppress his grin this time. He rather liked the idea of speaking to Julia Martinez again.

Gill left the file with Walker and headed back along the corridor towards her own office, only to be interrupted as Major Thornley, the BC, stepped through the outer door into the same corridor.

"Ah Gill! Good, saves me coming to look for you! Do you have a moment?"

A polite question it may have seemed to the uninitiated, but to those in the know that polite request was code for, "I want to speak to you, now!", and coming from a senior officer had all the weight of a formal order behind it.

Gill followed Peter Thornley into his office and stood waiting while he hung his beret on the peg on the back of the door. "Take a seat Gill," he invited her, Gill nodded her thanks ss she sat in one of the two so-called easy chairs.

Thornley took his own chair behinf his desk and without preamble started, "You know I've been at this damn meeting all morning, about the new tri-service discipline act?" he paused for conformation.

"Yes, sir. I was aware of that."

"Good! Well, it looks like we're all going to have to learn new section numbers for all the old offences. It seems that Navy played their 'Senior Service' card, and the numbering system is going to come from their current Naval Discipline Act, so, with effect from next year no more Army Act! Still, it seems we keep QR's for the Army for a while anyway! Don't what the army's coming to… Anyway that was the bad news." Peter Thornley suddenly smiled, a smile of real pleasure, "But then Colonel Mike called me to one side just as we were leaving, and handed me the good news – mind you, Gill, this is not to leave this office until it's been officially announced!"

Gill's eyes danced, this was one of the BC's favourite games, teasing with tid bits of news; 'honestly, at times he could suddenly revert to being a little boy. Then again, can't they all?' she asked herself, but, "What can't, sir?" she asked lightly.

Thornley' smile threatened to become a broad grin, "Bombardier Walker's actions at Balad Majram have been officially recognised. Colonel Mike's recommendations have gone through, Bombardier Walker has been awarded the MC!"

Gill gasped, "That's wonderful news, sir! But we shouldn't be surprised, it's a well-deserved award!"

"That it is, Gill that it is. He certainly saved Sarn't Major Long's life, and the defence he and Gunners Jarvis and Corcoran put up until they could be extracted was superb…" And then his face fell, "It was a shame about young Cooke, though…"

Gill too rapidly sobered, "Yes…" she fought off the glums and asked, "Does Bombardier Walker know about this, sir?"

"No, not yet. Colonel Mike intends to tell him personally. He'll let us know when. I'll tell the BSM, of course. And in the meantime Colonel Mike is trying to get the DRA to come down and present Walker with his gong on a formal parade. I'm pushing to have it before you're SOS, but if that doesn't happen, then I'll make sure you get an official invitation!"

"Yes, sir! Thank you. Is there anything else, sir? I'm trying to co-ordinate travel arrangements with the US Navy for the Firepower Demo…"

"Oh, Lord… yes. Gill, I'm so sorry, I tried to get you out of it… but with Live Firing coming up…"

"That's alright, sir." Gill grinned, "I've accepted my fate, and shall go an unwilling sacrifice to the God of Anglo American relations!"

Peter Thornley allowed himself a brief chuckle, "Go, out! Oh, I'm lunching in the Mess today; care to walk over with me?"

Gill paused on the threshold, "Yes, of course, sir!"

xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx

"Navy Force JAG's Office, Yeoman Two Martinez, sir."

"Hello again Yeoman, this is Johnny Walker here from Three Eight Regiment, RA. We spoke a couple of weeks ago about the Firepower Demo at Larkhill?"

'Oh it's that cute sounding Brit grunt!' Julia thought, "Yes, I remember you. How may I help you?"

"Well… have you received a letter for your Captain with the revised programme for the demo?"

"Uh… yes, it's on his desk right now…"

"Yeah, look, my BK is anxious about your man's travel arrangements, and wants to know what sort of arrangements she should make for his reception at this end. I mean, does anybody in your office know how to get to Tidworth, or from there to Larkhill? You're looking at a minimum of two hours, plus the delay at the other end for security. If the bad guys wanted to hurt us, the VIP stand is a prime, soft target."

"I'd have to confirm it with him… but I guess he'd be travelling by road. Can I call you back, in maybe an hour?"

"Sure, I'll be waiting. Here's the number…" Johnny Walker waited until Julia confirmed the number with him and then paused for a moment, "It was nice talking to you again. 'Bye, Julia."

Julia Martinez put the 'phone down with soft smile on her face, 'Damn, he really did sound cute! And a mild telephone flirtation wouldn't hurt. Hell, it might even make my day!'

Standing and smoothing her skirt over her thighs she knocked on Captain Rabb's doorframe.

"Enter!"

"Sir, sorry to interrupt, but I've just had that Brit soldier, Walker, on the 'phone again. His officer was asking how you intended to travel down to their location for the Firepower thing at Larkhill. There's some sort question about security, sir…"

Harm looked mildly surprised for a moment and then relaxed, "Yes… of course there would be." He reflected a moment, "By car."

"Right sir… Walker said it's a minimum of two hours travelling time, plus extra to clear security…"

Harm nodded, "Thank you, Martinez, I'll bear that in mind when I plan the journey!"

"Yes, sir!"

xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx

Gill looked up at the knock on her office door, "Come in!"

"Only me, ma'am," Walker grinned. "That Yankee Captain's Yeoman just called me back. He says he'll be travelling by road!"

"I see… thank you." Gill; looked at her watch… not long now to lunchtime, still, she'd have to speak to the damned man at some time, "Have you got her number handy?"

"Yes, ma'am!" he handed her a sheet torn off a memo pad.

"Thank you, Bom."

"My pleasure ma'am!" Walker grinned and withdrew, closing the door behind him.

Gill tapped the sheet of paper with the end of her pen a few times, and then reaching for the telephone started to dial the number Walker had given her. She listened while the phone at the other end rang four times before it was picked up.

"Navy Force JAG's Office, Yeoman Two Martinez, sir."

"Good morning, this is Captain Shephard from Three Eight Regiment Royal Artillery, may I speak to Captain Harmon Rabb, please?"


	3. Chapter 3

**3**

Harm glared at his 'phone as it rang yet again, he had achieved practically nothing this morning with almost incessant 'phone calls and other interruptions, and the pile of unseen paperwork in his in-tray looked as if it was about to each critical mass. With a heavy sigh, he picked up the handset, "Rabb!" he rasped.

"_I have a Captain Shephard on line 1 for you, sir_?"

Harm ran a mental list of Navy officers in NAVFOREUR under quick review and came up blank, "Shephard? Who he?" he demanded

"_Not 'he', sir, 'she'_" Martinez replied, and Harm could clearly hear the giggle she was fighting to suppress, "_She's a Captain, British Army, and I think she's your host officer for the firepower demonstration at… at… _"

"Larkhill!" Harm supplied, "Alright, put her on!"

"_Aye, aye, sir!"_

Harm waited for the connection to be made and once he'd heard the tell-tale 'click' he made himself known, "Rabb!"

Gill blinked in mild surprise, his greeting hadn't been that unusual, but it had seemed to be rather… snappish. Still, he was the senior officer…

"_Good morning, sir. Gillian Shephard, from Three Eight Regiment, Royal Artillery. I am to be your host officer for Larkhill Day._"

"Good morning, Captain. What can I do for you?" Harm asked. Unfortunately his resentment at being compelled to attend this 'waste of time' allied with his general irritation at the lack of progress he had made this morning was clear in his voice, and his apparently unwarranted ill-temper had an unfortunate effect on Gill.

If Gill had been a cat, her fur would have bristled, and when she spoke she had an almost arctic note to her voice. "_I am your host officer_," And even as she said the words, she was thinking 'Baby-sitter, more likely', "_for the firepower demonstration at Larkhill on the twenty fourth, and I thought it might be mutually beneficial if we were to iron out some of the details, which have been left to our discretion_." She said and then added a belated "_Sir_" as a last second afterthought.

Harm had vaguely wondered what his escort was going to be like, and as Gill's voice assailed his ears, he gave a mental shudder. Never once thinking that his own irritability had produced the chill in her voice, he leaped to the swift conclusion that she was less than impressed with this particular duty. 'Hell, she sounds just like I imagined a Brit officer would! Snooty as all get out! I bet she attended some exclusive school and then went to some top-university, probably Oxford or Cambridge. And I'll bet too, that she's got a head still stuffed with some sort of nineteenth century idea that most of the world ought to be still under British rule, and blames the USA for everything!' "What sort of details?"

"_Well… your travel arrangements, for instance; it might be more beneficial if you were to travel down to Tidworth the night before, that would be the twenty third, spend the night in the Mess here, and then we share transport up to Larkhill on the morning of the twenty fourth_."

"Why would I want to do that?" Harm asked tersely. "Why don't I just meet with you at Larkhill on the morning of the demonstration?"

Gill heaved a mental sigh, and remembering that she was speaking to a senior officer, she made an effort to control her voice so that it wouldn't reveal her own irritation at his obtuseness.

"_Firstly, sir. There will be hundreds of vehicles all arriving at the demonstration ground for the start of the demo. Many of them will be transport for foreign officers in all sorts of uniforms, and finding a total stranger in that mish-mash would be fraught with difficulty. Secondly it would take a driver who knows the roads from central London to Wiltshire a minimum of two hours to make the journey by road, so that would mean an oh six hundred hours start for you at the very latest – and that's not including extra time to allow for hold-ups: roadworks, diversions or traffic jams. Thirdly, as far as I have been able to find out, your role in London is non-operational, so I would assume that you don't have any vehicles with cross country capability_?" Gill winced at her forgetfulness and again tacked on a hasty "_Sir_."

Harm bristled, 'Goddammit to hell! The woman sounds as if she thinks I'm three years old…' He gathered himself to deliver a verbal blast but then a little voice at the back of his mind said, 'hey hold on thar a minute, partner! She's right on all three counts! So taking a deep breath, he mentally made a slow ten-count before he spoke, "Yeah, I see what you mean… In that case, I agree I'll drive down on the Thursday and meet you… where exactly?"

"_We're at Bhurtpore Barracks, here in Tidworth; you'll have to pass through the Garrison check-point first, and they'll direct you to our Barracks. You'll have to check-in at the Guardroom; I'll let them know that you'll be arriving, and I'll have someone escort you from there to the mess, sir_." Gill heaved a mental sigh of relief, 'At least I managed to remember to call him 'sir' this time!'

"Very well, make it so!" Harm agreed curtly.

"_Yes, sir_" Gill replied, instinctively replying to what she recognised as an order.

Harm caught the military snap in the cool voice and he, in his turn winced. He might outrank a Captain in any army, but he had no legal basis for giving her a direct order, but before he could even begin to make verbal amends she spoke again.

"_On the matter of dress, sir. I believe it is understood that you will need combat kit for the demo on both the Friday and Saturday, and Mess Dress for the formal dinner at the Larkhill Mess on Friday night_?"

"Agreed."

"_You won't require Mess Dress for Thursday night. We're normally quite informal in the Mess unless it's a function night, so either Service Dress or a civilian suit is acceptable wear for a male officer_."

"I see…" Harm made a note as a grimace of distaste crossed his face, 'Damn, just as stuffy as I thought they'd be!'

"_Oh… and just one or two things further, sir_." Gill added, anxious to finish this conversation and get back to work, "_We gather for dinner at seven thirty for eight, so if you can possibly make it so that you have time to get settled in and changed ready for nineteen thirty hours, it would be more… comfortable for everybody_."

"Yes. I think I can manage that!" Harm said, heavy on the irony. "Oh, just one more thing, Captain…"

"_Yes, sir_?"

"Uh… I'm vegetarian – mostly, but if your cooks can't manage that, I do eat chicken or fish…"

"_Very good, sir. I'll make the necessary arrangements this end… Oh, just one more item, sir. Your driver - male or female_?"

"Oh…" Harm hadn't considered the question of a driver, he had assumed that he would drive himself as he was used to doing in the States, but that was when he hadn't rated a driver. Now as a Captain and in command, he supposed he ought to make use of his driver for more than just being ferried daily from Northolt to Central London. "Uh, female. A Corporal Morrison, USMC," he said. 'Morrison's a Marine, she should be able to tell me if what I'm seeing is the real McCoy or some sort of pre-arranged bullshit!'

"_Right sir, I'll arrange for her accommodation for the Thursday night too_." Gill hesitated, on the basis of this somewhat frosty conversation she had no real wish to prolong the Navy officer's visit, but good manners compelled that she should ask, "Will you wish to stay over on the Saturday evening with us, sir, or will you be heading straight back to London at the end of the demo?"

'How fucking pretentious is _that_?' Harm, irritated by the diminutive, asked himself, '_Demo_! Why not just call it 'demonstration'!'

No keener than Gill to prolong his visit, "I think we'll just head straight back to London at the end of the demonstration, Captain," Harm replied, placing just a slight emphasis on the full form of the word.

"_Very good sir; I look forward to meeting you late afternoon or early evening on the twenty third_!" Gill said.

"As do I, so until then, goodbye Captain Shephard!" Harm agreed, fortunately dredging her name up from his memory.

"_Goodbye, sir_!"

Harm put the 'phone down, 'This is going to be one of the great enjoyable experiences of my life – not!' he silently groaned, and then pressed the call button on his desk top intercom, "Martinez?"

"Sir?" Julia answered.

"Can you rustle up a cup of proper coffee, please, and a couple of Aspirin. That is if there is such a civilised thing on this God-forsaken island!"

"Of course, sir!" Julia replied. 'That must have been some doozy of a 'phone call!' she thought as she headed for the galley. Normally the Captain didn't call for Aspirin this early in the day unless he'd had Trouble and Strife in front of him – again. 'Trouble and Strife' being the somewhat disrespectful nickname that was currently (and surreptitiously) circulating for Lieutenants Tierney and Sullivan. There was also a clandestine pool running as to how long they were going to last before Captain Rabb either had them posted to somewhere horrible like Adak or Diego Garcia, or just plain threw them in the brig!

Such thoughts occupied the Yeoman as the fresh coffee brewed to what she considered an unacceptably strong degree, but then again, she wasn't going to drink it, and pausing at her desk to collect the two foil wrapped Aspirins she knocked on the Captain's office door.

"Enter!"

Julia manoeuvred her way through the door while balancing cup and saucer and then crossed the office to her chief's desk, "Aspirin and coffee, as requested, sir." She said brightly.

"Thank you Martinez!"

Julia watched as Harm popped the two tablets out of their foil and throwing his head back, he dropped them into his mouth, washing them down with a generous sip of coffee.

Julia gathered up the now-empty strip of foil, and asked sympathetically, "Rough 'phone call, sir?"

"Rough morning, Martinez!" he corrected her. And then as the beneficial effects of the caffeine started to make themselves felt, he unbent sufficiently, to add, "Thanks for the meds, the coffee… and for asking!" he added with a slight smile, "Dismissed!"

"Aye, aye, Sir!" Julia about faced and left the office. Closing the door behind her, she took her seat behind her own desk and with a thoughtful frown she considered Captain Rabb's morale. It definitely seemed to be on a downturn, and that wasn't good for office morale in general, and his mood, already subdued was almost sure to become even more tetchy if the latest stunt pulled by Tierney and Sullivan came to his notice, as, she sighed, it almost certainly would. Something needed to be done before his mood grew worse. Captain Rabb, she decided needed cheering up, and not only did she know just how to do it, she was the one person who could make it happen. With a self-satisfied grin, she turned off the screen saver on her monitor and opened the 'phone log application, checking for the number she needed on the list of incoming calls.

xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx

Gill replaced her handset in its cradle with a sigh of relief. 'What a miserable bastard! If I hadn't seen his photograph, I'd have sworn he was some sort of Colonel Blimp, past his active service date, but clinging to his service career like some species of barnacle, terrified of the real world outside his precious navy! Hang on! Just how old was that damn' photo, anyway?'

Gill picked up her 'phone again, dialled the internal extension and waited for the reply.

"_Battery Office, Bombardier Walker, sir_."

"Bom, Captain Shephard here… do you remember getting hold of the computerised US Navy news sheet for me a few weeks back?"

"Yes, ma'am.

"Could you find it again, and let me have the web address?"

"Of course, ma'am… I might still have it in my computer's memory… just wait a second please, ma'am…. Ah...got it. Got a pencil and paper handy, ma'am?"

"Of course!" Gill smiled. She had been expecting that; Walker always asked the same question whenever he was asked for information over the 'phone.

"Right ma'am, the URL is…" Walker rattled off the details, adding shrewdly, "Once the page opens, just type 'Harmon Rabb Jr' into the search box, ma'am!"

"Thank you, Bom!" Gill said drily, and hung up. 'Sometimes Bombardier Walker is too damn' clever for his own good! Either that or I'm too damn' transparent!' she thought ruefully.

Putting the note aside, she picked up her phone again…

"_Three Eight Regiment, Officer's Mess, Staff Sergeant Ambrose, sir_!"

"Good morning, Staff. Captain Shephard here… I need to book senior officer accommodation for the night of the twenty third, for a Captain Rabb, US Navy…"

"Captain_ Rabb_, _ma'am_?" Staff Sergeant Ambrose queried, with emphasis on the rank.

"Yes," Gill sighed; she foresaw that she was going to have to explain the differences in the ranking system to practically everyone she spoke to. "A Navy Captain is the equivalent to a full Colonel, Staff, and so senior officers' accommodation is definitely indicated. Oh, and Staff, apparently he's a vegetarian… so be sure and let the kitchen know…"

"_Right, ma'am. I'll get it sorted. The twenty third, for just one night, and one extra vegetarian dinner, right ma'am_?"

"Thank you, Staff."

Gill broke the connection, and thought for a few seconds. Marie Westwood had taken over the role of OC Women in the regiment, but Sergeant Anderson, the Pay Sergeant, was her admin NCO as far as the women soldiers were concerned. So once again her fingers were allowed to do the walking.

"_Pay office, Corporal Wilson, sir_!"

"Corporal, Captain Shephard here. Is S'arnt Anderson around?"

"_One moment, ma'am_."

"_Sergeant Anderson, ma'am_!"

"'Morning, S'arnt, I need to arrange overnight accommodation for a visiting officer's female driver, a Corporal USMC."!

"_Right, ma'am, what night or nights_?"

"Just for the twenty-third, S'arnt!"

"_OK ma'am, got it_!"

'Right, just one more thing…' and again Gill punched in a number on her 'phone…

"_Adjutant_!"

"Tony, it's Gill. Can you let Colonel Mike know that Captain Rabb will be visiting overnight on the twenty-third? Staff Ambrose has the accommodation arrangements in hand, and I shall be looking after him, for my sins, but Colonel Mike might want to make him feel welcome too."

"_Right Gill, thanks. I'll certainly let the Colonel know_!"

"Thanks, Tony!"

'Now that's all fixed, perhaps I can get on with some work!' Gill told herself, reaching for the top file in her in-tray.

xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx

'Not again!' Harm cursed silently but viciously as his 'phone rang yet again. "Rabb!" he snapped as he threw down his pen and grabbed the handset.

"_Hey Harm, what bug's gotten up your ass, this early in the day_?" The sound of Mattie Grace's cheekily cheerful voice lifted Harm's spirits in a flash.

"Mattie Grace! How many times do I have to tell you to mind your mouth?" he scolded her, but his heart wasn't it, as Mattie could easily tell, even from her bedside in Blacksburg.

"_Oh… just about as many times as I break your rules!_" The unrepentant teenager commented, "_Besides, you should cut a poor little, crippled and deserted orphan girl some slack, especially when there's a whole ocean between us._" Mattie continued shamelessly.

"Oh no," Harm chuckled, "You are not going to lay a guilt trip on me over that!"

"_Oh well, you can't blame a girl for trying_," Mattie sighed wistfully.

"Oh yeah, I'll give you an 'A' for effort, but an 'E' for achievement, Harm laughed at Mattie's obviously faked despondency.

"_Hey, that's still a 'C' on average, I can live with that_!" Mattie crowed with laughter.

"Not an option as far as I'm concerned, Squirt!" Harm chuckled, "Straight 'A's all the way, remember?"

"_Yeah, I remember…_"

"How is school anyway?" Harm asked.

"_It's going OK… Miss Talbot makes sure I'm not overloaded, and one of the nurses here is helping me with English Lit, and Jen helps with the math, but she's not too good with calculus. I sure wish you were here_!"

"Oh, so that's all I'm good for is it?" Harm teased her, "You only want me 'cause I'm a good math coach?"

"_H'mm… let me think about that_!" Mattie giggled and then paused for a few seconds before she continued, _"Nuh-huh, you're also a pretty good jack-leg cook, and I'm told that you're a fair stick as well! So… I guess I miss you for a couple of other reasons too… oh, yeah… I also miss you, just because I love you…_"

Mattie let her voice trail off hoping that Harm would respond in kind. Not that she doubted he loved her, but she knew how difficult it had always been for him to lay it on the line, and she suspected that it was now doubly difficult since she had persuaded him to open up, and then when he had, that bitch MacKenzie had taken his offered love and then trampled it in the dirt. Still, better now than after the wedding, she decided pragmatically.

Harm blinked as his eyes suddenly became moist and he swallowed to clear his throat which had equally suddenly become restricted, "Yeah, I love you too, Squirt." And then rallying lest the conversation became maudlin, he continued, "But I hear it won't be long until you're outta there?" he said challengingly.

"_Yeah we've got a case conference this afternoon with me, Jen, Donna Le Moyne, Harriet Roberts and the Admiral."_

"What, you mean he suddenly isn't the mean, old, bald guy, anymore?" Harm teased her.

"_Well… maybe he's not as bad as I thought he was at first, but I still say he treated you like crap when you got back from Peru_!" Mattie protested.

"Paraguay," Harm corrected her, armouring his heart against all the hurt that name still conjured up.

"_Yeah, whatever…"_ Mattie replied off-handedly.

"Mattie, play nice, now!" Harm said, a note of warning in his voice. "And just when did Lieutenant Sims become 'Harriet Roberts' to you?"

"_Uh… like since when she told me to call her Harriet instead of 'ma'am'. Like the woman said, she's not in the Navy anymore! Besides, if I'm going to stay with her and her family until you come and rescue me, it's going to be strange calling her Lieutenant and ma'am, the whole time_."

"Well. OK then," Harm replied slightly mollified by the teenager's answer, "If she said it was OK for you to call her by her first name, then it's OK with me. But remember, she is still in the Navy, but she just reserved her commission, so you play nice with her, her husband – and with the Admiral, do you hear there?"

"_Aye, aye, sir! And the Admiral's not so bad Harm, he's helping me with my history and geography studies. He sure knows a lot of history, even more than you do, but I guess that's because he's lived longer. Did you know that he was in Viet Nam when the war was on_?"

"Yeah, I'd already figured that one out, Kiddo," he laughed.

"_Oh…"_ Mattie had heard the laughter in his voice and blushed red, thankful for just a second that a whole ocean did lie between her and Harm, so that he couldn't see her embarrassment. "_Yeah, I guess you did! Pretty dumb thing for me to say, right_?"

"Yeah, pretty much so," he smiled.

"_Yeah… Oh, I gotta go, Jen's making signs that she wants her cell back! I love you Harm_!"

"I love you too Mats! See you on the fourth weekend! Bye!"

"_Hello, sir_?"

"Hello Jen. I didn't realise that Mattie was using your cell 'phone. I wouldn't have babbled so long if I had…"

"_It's OK , sir…"_

"No, Jen it's not OK. You're doing quite enough for Mattie and for me; you mustn't let her take advantage of you!"

"_It's not a matter of her taking advantage of me. Mattie's like a kid sister to me, remember … Dad_?" she finished cheekily.

"I remember," he smiled. "And I remember the last time you called me that it cost me a TV and a DVD player!"

"_Well, at least you managed to borrow the DVDs from Lieutenant Roberts, sir_!" Jen giggled.

"I did manage that," Harm agreed with a smile.

"_Well that was a saving of a hundred bucks_!" Jen grinned.

"Well, that's one way of looking at it!" Harm agreed wryly, and then with a swift change of subject, "I wasn't expecting a second call today from you, or from Mats, everything alright back there?"

"_Yes, sir! I saw the General this morning, and although he wasn't best pleased, he's letting me slide on the excess leave thing, but I have a feeling he'll be getting in touch with you about that. Mattie told you about the case meeting, oh… and you can expect Lieutenant Sims to call you at home later this evening to discuss Mattie's care once she's out of here…"_

"OK, Jen. It's not that I don't like hearing from you and the Squirt, it was just… that it was unexpected, especially after we talked earlier…."

"Oh, _that's 'cause Julia said you sounded a bit down in the… Oh, crap!_" Jen added desperately, "_Sir_! _I didn't mean to let that slip…_

"I'll bet you didn't!" Harm said ominously as he felt a surprising surge of anger, and fought to keep it from his voice, "Just remember Jen, that people do not like to be handled! But since your motives seem to be pure, I'll let it slide mostly – this once, OK?"

"_Yes, sir. But, sir… did we make you feel any better_?"

"Yes, Jen, you did. Hearing from Mattie always makes my day! And you help considerably too!"

"_In that case, I'm not too sorry, sir_!" Jen said unrepentantly.

"That, Legalman One, is very close to…" Harm started to say.

"_Insubordination, sir_?" Jen asked with mock innocence reverberating from every syllable.

"Yes, dammit!" Harm agreed, but totally unable to hide the amusement in his voice.

"_In that case, we'd better finish this conversation, before I land myself in the brig_!" Jen said, "_Goodbye sir_!"

"Goodbye, Jen. Take care!" Harm smiled and replaced the phone on its cradle and shook his head, 'Why is it that all my female staff feel the need to… to… mother me! I've got one mother already; I sure as hell don't need anymore!' Shaking his head in exasperation, and not sure whether or not he should be angry, Harm thumbed the intercom call button, "Martinez?"

"_Yes, sir_!"

"I'd take it kindly if you would get on to Delta Airlines at Heathrow and get me on a flight to DC on Friday July first returning on Tuesday July fifth. If they claim they've got no vacancies have them check my frequent flyer miles and bump me up to business class!"

"_Aye, aye, Sir_!"

"Oh, and Martinez…?"

"_Yes, sir_?"

"I'd take it even kindlier, if you didn't sic my ward and Legalman One Coates on me every time I ask for an Aspirin! Got it?"

Martinez gulped, she knew she'd taken a chance, but it seemed to have paid off, the dour note in Captain Rabb's voice had gone, and she had received only the lightest of slaps on the wrist as a reward for her presumption. But she knew that it was a card that she could probably never play again. Still, she had spoken to Miss – no, Legalman One – Coates and knew that the older girl hoped to be reporting for duty soon, and that the Captain's ward would be joining them as soon as she was fit to travel, so hopefully that would relieve some of the stress and anxiety that was visibly wearing him down

"_Aye, aye, sir!"_ she replied fervently.

xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx

Gill pushed the grubby file to one side, "And your point is, Staff?"

Staff Sergeant McReady, the REME Gun Fitter and NCO IC the Battery Fitter Section, breathed deeply. He knew that Captain Shephard knew what his point was; she just wanted him to come right out and say it.

"Ma'am, C Sub is bugg… uh… finished. Sorry ma'am, it's BLR, and my guess is Command Workshops will rule it's BER. I have to hand that gun history to the EME, and I reckon he'll be onto the QM Tech soonest to indent for a replacement! Either that, or we'll be short a sub for weeks while we back-load it to Command Workshops. We can't repair it here; we just haven't got the facilities." He paused and then added as a clincher, "Tiffie Guns, agrees with me ma'am."

"Of course he does!" Gill agreed dryly. "Look Staff, we just operate the damn' things, it's up to you bods to keep them running! Very well, I'll pass this on to the BC as soon as he gets back, so you can expect his descent on you sometime after lunch!"

"Yes, ma'am. And… thank you ma'am!" Staff McReady, whipped up a Pirbright Perfect salute, paused and then with an as precisely executed about turn he left Gill pensively regarding the oil-stained gun history book, which she reluctantly opened to the most recently completed page and equally reluctantly read the latest chapter in the chequered history of the AS-90 Self Propelled Gun that was C Sub-section and problem gun of 147 (Dragon) Battery Royal Artillery.

Looking at the history it was plain that the gun spent more time in the fitter section than it did in the gun lines. If it wasn't the propulsion, it was the electrics, if it wasn't the electrics it was the hydraulics, if it wasn't the hydraulics it was the optical system… Gill sighed; the BC would fight to keep the gun in the battery. But this time she'd have to go against his wishes and recommend that the thing be replaced, it was just costing too many man-hours and putting an extra strain on the small fitter section. If the Tiffie Guns concurred with her own NCO IC Fitter Section, and there was no reason to doubt Staff McReady's word on that subject, then it was high time the gun was back-loaded and replaced.

In the meantime… Gill got up from behind her desk and leaving her office walked the few yards to the Battery Office, "Bom, are you down for duty clerk at any time between the twenty third and the twenty fifth?"

"No, ma'am, I'm clear until the twenty ninth."

"Good. How do you fancy a couple of days in the fresh air? Warm summer sun, cooling breezes, pleasant company…?" she made it sound as inviting as she could.

"Oh, let me think…" Johnny Walker grinned, "You want a driver for Larkhill Day, right?"

Gill nodded, and grinned in anticipation of Walker's full response.

"So… that would mean two days slaving in the open, getting blasted by the sun, or more likely half drowned by the rain, dust or muddy water in the food - depending on the weather, being eaten by mosquitoes, deafened by loud bangs, and all opposed to two days devoted to my duties here, in a comfortable office wrestling with all the crap from Regimental Hindquarters. Uh… I mean dealing with all the vitally important paperwork from RHQ, and submitting ration states, how could I possibly resist such a tempting offer! Shall I organise a vehicle with Sergeant Keefe, or shall I leave that with you, ma'am?"

"No, I'll leave that it your more than capable hands, Bom! Just make sure it's an FFR, oh yes, not a puddle jumper! If it's possible, I'll take my own vehicle. See Sergeant Jackman too, please and get a couple of sets installed. We've got the ECI for the demo haven't we?"

"Yes, ma'am!"

"Good. I think I saw that we had been allocated a call-sign. If not let me know and I'll get on to the Sigs Wing at the School. Oh, I've spoken to that American Captain and he's confirmed that he'll be driving down from London. Can you make up a route card from the American Embassy at Grosvenor Square to here, and fax it or e-mail it to his office, please?"

"Got it ma'am," Johnny Walker replied, already swivelling in his chair as he reached for the appropriate drawer on the filing cabinet.

"Fine, let me know if there are any snags," Gill smiled as she turned to return to her own office.

Tug Wilson, the day's Battery Runner, who had been sitting quietly rigid while the officer was in the room turned to Johnny. "How the bloody hell do you get away with being so fucking cheeky?" he demanded.

Johnny looked across at the Gunner, one of his oldest friends in the Battery and grinned, "'Cause she fancies me, mate!" he claimed outrageously as he dropped a broad wink.

Tug Wilson looked at the NCO in open disbelief, "Fucking bollocks!" he exclaimed.

Johnny Walker grinned

xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx

At zero six hundred hours on Thursday June twenty third, Harm dropped his sweat-soaked t-shirt and shorts into the laundry basket in his bathroom and climbed into the shower. At zero seven hundred hours, breakfasted and clad in his Service Dress Blues, his garment carrier and sea-bag ready packed and on the floor by his feet, he gazed unbelievingly as the door to the Navy sedan which had just stopped outside his quarters door as Yeoman Two Julia Martinez climbed out of the driver's seat and marched up the path towards him.

"What the hell…? Martinez, what are you doing here, where's Morrison?" He demanded.

"Good morning, sir!" Martinez replied, halting and saluting smartly, "Corporal Morrison's in the QEMH, sir!"

"The what?" Harm demanded as he returned the salute.

"The Queen Elizabeth Military Hospital, sir!" Martinez replied, stooping to pick up the sea-bag.

Harm unthinkingly gently swatted her hand away, "Leave that Martinez, I'm not so old that I can't carry my own bags! Now, what is Morrison in hospital for?"

"She was playing in the jarheads versus squids women's volleyball game last night sir; she fell and broke her ankle. She'll be off full duty for weeks, I reckon!" Martinez answered as she accompanied Harm towards the trunk of the pool sedan.

"A doctor now are you, Martinez?" Harm asked sarcastically, "where did you do your medical training, Johns Hopkins?"

Martinez flushed, "No, sir, I am not a doctor, but even a Yeoman can recognise a broken ankle when it's an open compound fracture, leaking blood all over the volleyball court, and make a guess at how long the injury is going to keep someone off their feet." She paused deliberately, just long enough not to be found guilty of insubordination before she added the regulation, "Sir!" and opening the trunk of the sedan so that Harm could stow his gear.

Harm flushed in his turn under his Yeoman's implied rebuke, "You're right, of course Martinez. I should have asked before jumping to conclusions. It's just I don't like surprises. Speaking of which," he frowned, "whose gear is that?" He indicated a stuffed sea-bag and a pair of boots already stowed in the trunk.

"Uh, they're mine sir," Martinez stiffened to attention. "You'll still need a driver, and since the accommodation booked is for a female and that there aren't that many female lower rates or marines that are cleared to drive in the UK, and besides, since you'll be out of the office, and I'll not be missed without you being there, I volunteered to be your driver, sir!"

Harm regarded her thoughtfully. The damn' woman had, thanks to his undeserved sarcasm obtained the moral high ground. "H'mm, cleared to drive in the UK?" he queried.

"Yes, sir! Took the Brit driving test and have a full Brit licence for cars, automatic and shift stick, sir!"

"OK… why did you do that, Martinez?" Harm asked as he opened the passenger door.

Julia waited until Harm had settled himself in the passenger seat and herself behind the wheel before answering, "Well sir, with having base transport to and from work, and the hassle of driving in London, it wasn't worthwhile buying a car, and I did want to get out and about and see a bit more of the country than just London, I needed to get a rental for weekends, and renting a car in the UK without a UK licence is a hassle. So in the end it was easier to take the test and get the licence."

Harm nodded, digesting this new information. Martinez had not only taken a test clearing her to drive in the UK but had also obtained the licence, for which he knew she would have had to pay out of her own pocket, and she'd spent the weekends, well at least some of them, driving around the country. "OK, Martinez, you're right, I do still need a driver. But while you're gone, who'll be keeping your seat warm?"

"Yeoman Three Cooper, sir!" Martinez replied. "He's bright and keen, and the experience'll do him good!"

"Cooper, h'mm... the kid with the freckles?"

"Yes, that's him sir!"

"OK, Martinez," Harm knew when he was licked, "You're hired!"

"Aye, aye, sir!" And although she knew it was risky, Julia couldn't help the small, swift grin of triumph that passed across her face.

Harm sat back against the squabs, "Now, tell me about Morrison. Why wasn't I informed of her accident?"

"I don't know, sir," Martinez admitted. "Sergeant Montalban was referee for the game and she called the EMTs, Lieutenant Ricardez," she named the Security Detachment's XO, "and the Duty Officer, as soon as the accident happened. Lieutenant Ricardez went to the hospital with Morrison, and that's all I know sir."

Harm nodded, "OK. This is what will happen today: we will work until twelve hundred hours, and then we will drive to the Queen Elizabeth Hospital, and visit with Corporal Morrison, after that we'll head for this place, Tidworth. Do you know where that is?"

"I've a pretty good idea, sir. It's near Salisbury, and I've been there."

"Whatever for?" Harm was surprised into asking.

"It's got a fantastic Early English Gothic style cathedral, sir, with the tallest spire in the UK, and houses the original Magna Carta, sir!"

"You bought the guide book, too?" Harm asked mildly amused at his Yeoman's enthusiasm.

"No, sir. Just that I'm interested in history and architecture sir!"

Harm gave Julia Martinez a disbelieving look, stunned into silence by yet another of his Yeoman's unexpected revelations.

This time, Julia let the grin stay on her face as she glanced across at her boss.

Harm had no difficulty in interpreting the grin. Shaking his head in resignation, he returned it and said mildly, "Just shut up and drive, Martinez!"

Her grin still firmly in place, Martinez replied, "Aye, aye, sir!"


	4. Chapter 4

"You're not feeling neglected, then, Corporal?" Harm asked the injured Marine.

"No sir… Captain Gutierrez came to see me last night, and Staff Sergeant Ditmers brought me some personal stuff this morning." Morrison felt uncomfortable talking to her CO like this, mainly because she felt she was such a klutz. Only a klutz could break her ankle playing goddamned volleyball.

Harm noticed her distraction and frowned, putting it down to the pain she must be in. He had expected to see her with her leg in plaster, yet she was lying in bed with her injured leg outside the covers, propped up on a ramp and in some sort of trough with what looked like dry ice packs all around her ankle.

He had turned to the woman who seemed to be the senior nurse on duty, and said quietly, "Good afternoon…" but then faltered into silence; he gazed at her shoulder-boards but remained none the wiser as to how he should address her.

"_Leftenant_" came the whispered prompt from Martinez, who stood just behind his right shoulder

"Good afternoon Lieutenant," he tried again, "I'm Corporal Morrison's CO?" he ended the sentence on a rising note, not sure if this British Army nurse would recognise the abbreviation.

"Yes sir?" she replied politely, at least the Yankee Navy followed the RN system of cuff rings for officers and Lieutenant Saunders had no difficulty in recognising the four rings of a Captain.

"Uh… yeah…" he took a couple of steps away from the bed, obliging Saunders to turn and face him. "I was expecting to see her leg in plaster… are you sure that she's alright like that with her foot in a… a… trough?"

"Half cast," Lieutenant Saunders replied with a smile. "Yes, it's just as it should be. But if you're concerned I could get Colonel Henderson to explain to you what's happening with your Corporal… it would be best, less liable to misinterpretation, if you spoke to him, and he's much more likely to be able to answer any questions that you might have."

Harm nodded, "Thank you Lieutenant."

Saunders smiled again and turned away feeling a mixture of exasperation and… and… yes, dammit… attraction. After all the Yank sailor Captain was a damned good looking man, but like most laymen he had some sort of idea of how people with broken limbs should look, while knowing nothing of medical matters.

Harm turned back to Morrison, who did look pale and was resting with her back propped up against her pillows and her eyes shut.

"You still with us Morrison?" he asked quietly.

Her eyes opened, "Yes, sir."

He looked around the ward with its twin row of twelve beds each side of the ward, "Are they looking after you alright?"

"Yes, sir." The injured Corporal forced a grin, "Breakfast was pretty good, by hospital standards, cereal, bacon, eggs, tomatoes, toast… but somebody's got to teach these British how to make coffee! I mean. Really sir, if you thought vending machine coffee was bad…" she shook her head sorrowfully.

Harm felt relieved at Morrison's flash of humour, but then he frowned again. "Shouldn't you be more comfortable in a smaller room, instead of being in this old-fashioned…" he waved his arm in a somewhat vague manner, as he disapproved of the traditional 'Florence Nightingale' ward. "I'll do what I can and see if we can't get you moved…"

"Uh… I'd rather stay put, sir." Morrison objected and then as the frown was turned on her, she made haste to explain. "When I was younger, I was in hospital back in Fresno for a couple of weeks, and I was in a small room. It was as boring as all get out, sir. And every time I needed something, even something non-urgent, I had to press the call button to get a nurse to leave the station and come to the room. Here, there's always something going on to watch, I can talk to the girls next door…" she grinned and finger waved at a young black woman in the next bed. "We've got a TV – although I gotta tell you sir, British daytime TV is worse than in the states! And if I need to speak to a nurse, there's always one around and I can catch their eye. I mean. Let's face it sir, I'm not ill, so I don't need all that much peace and quiet. I'm just a klutz who broke her damned stupid ankle!"

"Well… if you're sure, Morrison…"

"Yes, sir… quite sure. Thank you sir!"

"Sir?" Martinez spoke sotto voce.

Harm turned towards his Yeoman and cocked an inquiring eyebrow. Martinez indicated with a nod of her head that there was someone waiting g to speak with him.

Harm turned to see a figure in a white coat worn over British Army khaki pants and shirt. "Good afternoon, Lieutenant Colonel Neil Henderson, sir"

"Good afternoon Colonel, Captain Harmon Rabb, US Navy."

"Yes sir. I understand you have some questions about your Corporal, there?"

"Yes… As I was explaining to your Lieutenant, I expected to find her leg in plaster and about ready to return to light duties…"

Colonel Henderson chuckled, "Oh, no, sir. Your Corporal; is a very long way from returning to any sort of duty!" He saw the puzzled look on Harm's face, "Just step into the treatment room, and I'll try and show you why…"

Harm followed the doctor while Martinez took the opportunity to relax and perch on the side of Morrison's bed while she brought Morrison up to date with the revised travel plans.

Morrison scowled at the thought of anybody else driving 'her' Captain in 'her' car and said, "You'd best bring 'em both back safe, without a scratch on either of 'em! You hear?"

"Yeah, I got you, Jenny. Don't worry I'll take good care of the car, and of the Cap'n."

Doctor Henderson stood in front of a large colour chart showing the bones of the foot and knee in detail indicating where and how badly Corporal Morrison had injured herself.

"From the nature and extent of her injuries, it is apparent that Corporal was twisting when she made a single foot landing after leaping into the air. She has sustained several fractures, one of which is an open compound fracture and that is the middle fracture of a spiral that runs up her tibia – her shin bone. That is the worst of her injuries; however she has a similar fracture running two thirds of the way up her fibula, and has completely detached the lower half of her medial malleolus, and has fractured the bearing surface on three of her tarsals…"

Harm winced as the doctor catalogued the injuries. It seemed almost impossible that so many injuries could occur as the result of a simple jump during a volleyball game.

But Henderson hadn't finished. "Unfortunately, there was a delay in getting the Corporal to us, and by the time she arrived here and had been x-rayed her ankle was so swollen that we can't do a thing for her until the swelling and bruising reduces. You see, she will need surgery and her ankle will need pinning back together, which of course means that we will have to open her ankle, but we can't do that because we would have to suture the cuts we make as well as the tear made by her broken tibia, and we can't do that, because with the way her ankle is swollen any suture we put in will simply tear through the flesh. So your Corporal is going to be our guest for…" he did a quick calculation, "the next two to three weeks. Then she will need another six weeks in a non-weight bearing plaster before we haul her back in here for surgery to remove some of the pins. I'm afraid Corporal Morrison is in for a very uncomfortable and extensive period of time and will probably need to learn how to walk again."

Harm really winced this time; he'd known football players who'd been less injured by bone crunching tackles! Still, "Thank you, Colonel for being so frank. Do I need to start considering having her short-toured and sent to a stateside medical facility?"

"Not just yet, sir, but after her second surgery it might be a good idea." He paused obviously embarrassed, "Under reciprocal agreements with the United States, it is within our remit to provide treatment for injured US service personnel, but rehab – rehabilitation – falls outside that remit."

"I see… so about six to seven weeks?"

"Yes, sir, that would be about right."

"Again, thank you Colonel, both for your efforts on Morrison's part and for your honesty!" Harm held put a hand, trying to give some tangible evidence of his real gratitude.

The colonel gave a half grin, as he took the offered hand, "Not too hard please, sir. According to the neurosurgical types we may only be carpenters down here in orthopaedics, but we do still need our hands!"

xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx

"All set, Bom?" Gill asked Bombardier Walker as she breezed into the Battery Office.

"Absolutely, ma'am!" the NCO grinned. To be truthful he had a soft spot for the pretty Battery Captain, they were about the same age, she had maybe a year of two over him, but that was about it. She was normally cheerful and polite, unlike some pigs he could think of. OK, a request from an officer was still an order, but she was always pleasant. With her it was, "Could you…" and always with a please and thank you and never a "Get this done by…" and it was a refreshing change.

And although in his deepest fantasies he might have entertained private thoughts about her as a woman, and although he was at times, as Tug had put it 'fucking cheeky', there was still a line he would not cross. And even if he did, he knew that Gillian Shephard would be mortified to think she had been so unmilitary as to encourage him.

Even with the advent of this Yankee officer on the horizon, and she had let slip enough for him to reads between the lines that she wasn't looking forward to the next couple of days, she had remained cheerful.

"All set ma'am. The Kilo truck is signed out, and I've been over to the POL point so both tanks are chokker. Two sets rigged with spare batts, and even got a couple of seat cushions! Haverbags are organised; I'll pick 'em up at breakfast before I pick you and the Captain up at Oh seven hundred ma'am! So I'm just waiting for the Provost blokes to give me a bell and I'll let you know before I head down to the guardroom."

"OK, Bom. Thanks. Actually, I think I'll ride with you down to the guardroom. That way I'll be at the Mess when he arrives and I can hand him over to Staff Ambrose to get settled in."

Walker nodded, "Right ma'am, I'll give you a shout when I get the call."

"Thanks, Bom."

xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx

"How long 'til we get to this place, Martinez?" Harm asked as he settled himself into the front passenger seat. Protocol dictated that he should ride in back, but he was damned if he was going to sit back there on his own. Up front he could least talk to Martinez if need be, without shouting and missing half of what she said because her eyes were fixed on the road.

"About two hours if the roads are clear, sir. It's about ninety miles."

"Two hours to do ninety miles? God, what a country!"

"That's from here sir, in South East London. First off we have to get across to West London to get onto the motorway - that's kinda like an interstate, sir, and that's about twenty miles in London traffic. If that seems a lot sir, just imagine trying to drive from Anacostia to… to… say Falls Church without being able to use the Beltway".

"H'mm… point taken… but still… you'd think they'd have a beltway or something like that."

"They do, sir," Martinez grinned as she fumbled in her purse, "It's called the M25, and I've heard it described as the longest eight-lane car-park – that's parking lot – in the world! Ah, got it!" she said triumphantly.

"A GPS system?" Harm inquired almost incredulously as Martinez plugged it into the electrical socket in the car and mounted it, via a suction cup on the dashboard.

"Yes, sir," the Yeoman replied as she programmed in their desired destination.

"I thought you knew how to get to this place," Harm grumbled, suddenly feeling not so sure about his driver's capabilities.

"I know how to get from the Embassy to the general area, and I'm pretty sure I've seen signs for Tidworth Garrison, sir. But, I don't know how to get to the M3 from here, and I'm not certain of the road from the main road to the Garrison at the other end. And this doo-hickey will save us from having to stop and ask directions." Martinez said and then saw her chief's somewhat cynical expression, "What? You've never been lost?" she demanded somewhat acerbically and then remembering to whom she was talking, she added a hasty "sir! Sorry sir."

"No Martinez, I've never been lost!" he answered somewhat heavily, and then with his grin lighting up his face, he tapped his wings significantly, "I'm a fighter pilot, Yeoman, and fighter pilots never get lost… they just sometimes get spatially disoriented."

Martinez threw him a quick glance and shyly returned his grin, grateful that he hadn't torn her a new one as he could quite properly have done, so instead of disputing his argument (she had a reply on the tip of her tongue 'as long as he's got a good RIO'), she merely said meekly, "Yes, sir, sorry sir."

Harm looked at her suspiciously her reply had been polite enough, and obedient enough, but maybe too polite and too obedient. He'd have to remember that this wasn't Morrison, a pleasant enough young woman, but Martinez, who was less rigid than the marine and who hadn't been afraid to sic Mattie and Jen on him when he's been suffering his sense of humour failure.

"H'mm.. so... where did you get the GPS?" he asked, swiftly changing the subject as Martinez edged the dark blue sedan from the hospital parking lot – car park, he corrected himself - and out into the tree-lined suburban street.

"Uh… it's mine, sir. I bought it when I first started exploring…"

Harm shook his head, "You put me to shame, Martinez. I've hardly stirred outside the office or my quarters since I've been here… I need to follow your example, get out more, take an interest… and I'm running out of time!" he finished ruefully.

"With respect sir," Martinez said as she eased her foot of the gas pedal and down-shifted as she slowed to give way to a double-decker bus pulling out of a bus stop ahead, "You've been here less than a month. You spend God knows how many hours working late, you're still trying to read yourself into a new job, your CoS post has been gapped, and on top of all that you're concerned about Miss Grace and Miss… uh… Legalman One Coates, and now you've had this meet and greet dumped in your lap! It's hardly fair to expect you to get out and about and explore the country too! I'll bet the Fourth of July weekend coming up is the first weekend since you've been here that you haven't worked, and a return flight to the States and back isn't going to be exactly relaxing either! You need to take better care of yourself!"

Harm blinked, taken aback by his Yeoman's reply, but also slightly touched by her obvious interest in, and concern for him, "Yes, mom," he said in an overly meek voice.

Martinez shot him a suspicious look and then realised what she had just said, to just whom she had said it, and just how she had said it, and went white, "Oh God! Sir! I'm sorry sir! I was way out of line!"

"Yes, you were," he agreed cordially, And you need to remember a couple of things, if we're both going to survive this trip…"

"Yes, sir"

"One, I already got a mom."

"Yes, sir" Martinez said faintly.

"Two, I don't need another one."

"No, sir" equally faintly.

"And if I did… Legalman One Coates and Mattie Grace are first and second in line, so you'll just have to wait your turn in the event I do decide I want another mom. Got it, Julia?"

"Yes, sir!" she replied. Her eyes firmly fixed on the road as the traffic slowed. Then her eyes shot wide open and her heart gave a little jump as her brain finally received the message her ears had heard, 'Shit! He just called me Julia! He called me by my first name! I didn't think he even knew it!'

Satisfied that he had regained the high ground, Harm smiled to himself and sat back to endure… uh… enjoy the rest of the ride, when a thought struck him, "Uh, Martinez, how did you know what rank that nurse was back at the hospital?"

"When I found out that we'd be dealing with the British Army I… uh… looked up their rank badges on the net. Officers' ranks are pretty simple, the names are the same as ours, except that they don't have First Lieutenants…"

"They don't?" Harm asked in surprise.

"No sir, they have Second Lieutenants and Lieutenants. Both kinds of lieutenants – and they pronounce it 'Leftenant', no sir, I don't know why – and Captains wear 'pips' on their shoulders, or on a tab on the front of their uniform in BDUs, Second Lieutenant have one pip, Lieutenants, two and Captains three; Majors wear a crown, Lieutenant Colonels a crown and a pip, Colonels a crown and two pips, and then it's generals from there on up."

Harm blinked, "Uh… good… well researched…But… what the hell is a pip?"

"Uh, it's a bit hard to tell sir, it looks like a circle surrounded by some kind of motto, and that's surrounded by some kind of a multi rayed star, I think, sir. They're pretty small, so, like I said it's kind of hard to tell.

"No… that's OK, you done good!"

"Thank you sir!"

xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx

Johnny Walker tapped on the door marked "Battery Captain" and on being told to enter, he opened it and just shoved his head into the office, "Garrison VCP's just called ma'am. The Yanks have arrived and are on their way to the Regimental Guard Room; I'm just about ready to go, if you still want to…"

"Thanks, Bom!" Gill checked her watch, sixteen twenty hours, and thought rapidly, then stood, closed the file on her desk and grabbed her beret, "I'll just let the BC know I'm clearing out, wait for me in the vehicle, please."

"Yes, ma'am!" Johnny grinned as he stood aside to let the officer pass.

Three minutes later Gill clambered aboard the Landrover, and snapped her seat belt secure, "Right, Bom, let's go!"

xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx

"Just coming in, sir!" Julia Martinez said loudly enough to wake Harm from his light doze.

"H'mm?" he blinked sleepily.

"Check point ahead, sir!" Julia said a little more urgently.

Harm shook the last vestiges of sleep from his head and squirmed to a slightly more upright position from where he had slumped a little while he slept, and peered through the windscreen.

The car was on a narrow road lined by twelve feet high wire mesh fences topped with 'Y' brackets that held a triple coil of razor wire, while behind the fences thick bushes and the occasional tree masked whatever might lie beyond.

Ahead lay a permanent check point. Solid looking steel poles, set in what looked like fifty five gallon drums formed a tight chicane for anything larger that an a minivan and behind and to one side stood a hut about the same size as a trailer-home back in the States. The chicane was manned by three soldiers dressed in combat gear, wearing load carrying equipment and cradling their rifles in their arms, hands on the pistol grips and fingers not far from the triggers.

As the car drew to a halt, Harm noticed one soldier take a position just off to one side and ahead, in what he automatically thought of as the "one o' clock" position, while the second faded out to "nine o' clock" while the third approached the driver's window.

Julia wound down her window, "Captain Harmon Rabb, US Navy, visiting Three Eight Regiment RA. We are expected" she said confidently

The unsmiling soldier with two chevrons on the chest tab of his uniform merely said, "ID Cards, please," and despite his polite words, it was clear that he wasn't making a request. Julia took hers from her purse and collected Harm's as he pulled it out of his pocket, and handed them to the soldier, who looked at their photographs and checked that the laminating had not been interfered with before scrutinising their faces intently. Apparently satisfied that faces matched photographs, he turned away from the car and spoke briefly into his personal radio's microphone, and listened intently to the crackling reply.

Turning back to Julia he said curtly, "Wait here, please," and again he wasn't requesting their compliance, before he turned, and still with their ID Cards in his hand he disappeared into the trailer. The two minutes he took to return seemed the longest two minutes that Julia ever experienced, but when he did emerge from the temporary building he made a slight sign with his hand and the other two soldiers lowered their weapons and relaxed.

Approaching the car, he handed the IDs back to Julia, and his face relaxed into a brief smile, "Thank you," he said, "Do you know exactly where you're going?"

Julia responded to his smile, "No… I was hoping you could direct me?"

"Sure… straight on up this road for four hundred metres then take the first exit off the roundabout. Then take the fourth right, and that's the Gunners' lines.

Julia's smile widened, "Thank you Corporal."

The NCO stood back and gave a butt salute as the car moved off, which Harm, belatedly recognising returned in a hasty, awkward and non- too- smart manner.

"Whew! They certainly take their security seriously!" Julia observed as she kept the car down to the twenty miles per hour in accordance with the roadside signs.

"Yeah, thirty years of exposure to the threat of terrorist bombs will do that," Harm observed somewhat drily.

"Thirty years, sir?" Julia asked in surprise.

"Yeah, trouble with the IRA – the Irish terrorist group. We've upped our own security since nine eleven, but we've never had an attack on a military base. These guys have, as well as pub bombings, and the Hyde Park bombing where troops were killed, so these guys are pretty tight on security. Ah… looks like we're here!" he finished as Julia turned right through a set of wrought iron gates, these too topped with razor wire and stopped in front of a pole barrier.

The soldier manning the barrier was also in his field uniform, but his waist belt was white and he wore a dark blue brassard on his left arm on which were the red letters 'RP'. He was also armed, but his weapon was slung muzzle down, but the rifle butt was just in front of his shoulder and his right hand was on the pistol grip.

Once again Julia wound down the window as he approached, "IDs, please." He asked in a much more relaxed tone than the Corporal at the main VCP, but his examination of the ID Cards and the comparison of face to photo was just as intense. "We're expecting you," he grinned and indicated a stretch of tarmac opposite the building outside of which he was standing, "Just pull in over there, next to the Landrover, and your escort will be here shortly."

However before Julia could release the parking brake or engage the gears, a second Landrover pulled up alongside, the passenger door opened and Gill Shephard dismounted, stamping her booted feet to settle the trouser blouses properly around her lower legs, pausing for a second she approached the car, and Harm realising that she probably wished to speak with him, hastily opened his own door and rose to meet her.

Gillian halted, and swept her arm up in a text-book salute, holding it for the regulation pause of two seconds before returning her hand to her side, "Good afternoon, sir!" she said crisply.

"Good afternoon!" Harm replied gravely as he returned the salute, slightly surprised that she hadn't held hers until he had done so.

Gill looked at the man that had caused her so much unnecessary aggravation over the last few weeks. Tall… he was certainly that… probably taller even than David, who was six one and maybe even taller than Colonel Mike's six two… Not bad looking, he certainly looked fit enough and carried himself well… but that was only to be expected from someone with his years of service; probably about forty-ish, so that photo hadn't been taken all that long ago, but enough time for the slight, grey pigeon wings visible under the brim of his cap to have appeared in the interim. Not that the photograph had really done him justice, she mused, it hadn't captured that crinkle at the corner of his eye, or the humorous expression around his mouth, and it certainly hadn't captured those eyes… Gill suddenly found herself blushing, and in an effort to cover her confusion, when she spoke, she was deliberately curt.

"Captain Gillian Shephard, sir! I am to be your escort for the next two days!"

"Very good Captain! Captain Harmon Rabb!" he replied taken by surprise by her chilly tone.

"Very well, sir! If you'll instruct your driver to follow my vehicle!" She then felt like blushing again. Her voice had come up much sharper and much flatter than she had intended.

Harm was almost rocked back on his heels. The officer who had greeted him was dressed in green pants bloused over black boots and a green open-necked shirt with rank slides on the shoulder and with a dark blue beret covering most of her hair. She was about five seven, maybe five eight he thought, and had a neat figure, topped by an undeniably pretty face, dominated by hazel eyes, and what he could see of her hair it was a dark brown, lighter than Mac's. Probably nearer Jen's but with much more pronounced auburn highlights where the sun struck it. But her voice! Dear God! As clipped and as cold, if not colder than it had sounded over the 'phone when she had called his office.

He could feel his face stiffen into a cold mask as he replied, "Very well, Captain Shephard, lead on!"

Gill climbed back into the Landrover and could feel her face burning, "Officers' Mess, Bom!" she instructed.

"Everything alright, ma'am?" Johnny Walker asked in some surprise, "It was definitely not like Captain Shephard to be quite so… offhand.

"None of your damned business, Bombardier. So just shut up and drive!"

"Yes ma'am!" Johnny snapped in reply. Something is obviously not alright; best just let her get it out of her system. Captain Shephard's snits were very rarely of long duration.

Harm glowered at the British Officer as she turned away from him and slid back into the passenger seat of the navy sedan, barely restraining himself from slamming the door, "Follow that jeep!" he commanded brusquely.

"Aye, aye, sir!" Julia Martinez replied, deciding that whatever had gone wrong in those few seconds of conversation with the British Officer, she wasn't about to stick her nose into it, she rather liked the head she had, and didn't need it ripping off. So giving a mental shrug she smoothly let the clutch out and drove off behind the Landrover.

Johnny Walker definitely knew his BK, before they had arrived at the front entrance to the Officer's Mess, Captain Shephard had turned to him and said quietly, "Sorry, Bom. I've got no excuse for taking my temper out on you. You didn't deserve that."

Johnny Walker risked a quick sideways glance and grinned, "'Salright, ma'am. I guess that Yank got up your nose PDQ? And being how he's like a Colonel…?"

Gill leaned back against her seat, and gave a weak chuckle, "Damn you, right on both counts! You know Walker, sometimes you're a damn sight too clever for your own good!"

"Well, my mum never wasted any food on raising stupid kids, ma'am!" Johnny replied.

"Dear God! Do you mean there are more like you at home?" Gill said in pretended horror.

"Not exactly, ma'am – I've got four sisters!" Johnny said with a smile.

"Ohhh… those poor girls!" Gill grinned.

"Poor me, more like!" Johnny protested, thinking, 'you try living in a house with five females all PMSing at the same time!' but thinking better of voicing that thought. Fortunately for his peace of mind they were just about to draw up at the main entrance to the Mess and once he'd halted the vehicle, he hopped out and going around to the passenger door, he opened for Gill and then taking a pace step back, he brought his hand up in a quivering salute.

Gill returned the salute, but a delicately arched eyebrow asked a question.

"Show them damned Yanks how it's done! Go get him ma'am!" he muttered between unmoving lips.

"One day you're going to have to tell me how you guys do that!" Gill chuckled again, but then quickly smoothed her features into a mask as she turned to face the man she was fast coming to think of as her personal Nemesis.

Harm's face still showed traces of his anger as he climbed out of the car, and he tapped his foot impatiently as he waited for Martinez to open the trunk so that he could retrieve his luggage, which, when she had, he unceremoniously grabbed, and then walked towards the waiting British Officer.

"If you'd care to follow me, sir?" Gill said coolly

"Lead on Captain!" Harm said in his grimmest voice.

The two drivers stood and both saluted as the two officers climbed the five stone steps and disappeared through the Mess doors.

"That went well!" Johnny said as he let out the breath he hadn't been aware that he had been holding, as at the same time he gave Julia a once over. He rather liked what he saw, a petite young woman a few years younger than himself, he guessed, obviously of Latin descent, with regular features and a pair of deep brown eyes, and raven dark hair tied up in some sort of plait on the nape of her neck, and difficult as it was to tell – 'What military dress uniform ever showed a girl to advantage'? he asked himself – a pretty good figure.

"Yeah," Julia agreed, just as happy as Johnny to see the back of the sorest-headed pair of bears she had seen for a while.

"Yeah, what set that off?" Johnny asked.

Julia shook her head, "Beats me! He was OK on the drive down. What put a bug up her ass?"

"Fu… uh… damned if I know," he shook his head. I know she wasn't happy about being lumb… uh… about being detailed for this job, but she was dead happy, her normal cheerful self, right up until the second she dismounted at the Guardroom!"

"H'mm… well… if she's not happy about him being here, I'll betcha he's just as unhappy at being ordered to come here. He thinks this all a waste of time for a Navy JAG!"

"JAG?" Johnny queried.

"Yeah… oh… sorry; Judge Advocate General."

"Judge what?" Johnny asked.

"Advocate general. He's an attorney, a lawyer," Julia explained.

"Oh… a lawyer… well." Johnny paused. "Well, I'd best show you to the female accommodation… or… it's just about dinner time… do you want to eat first or get settled? I warn you, if you're late to the hot-plate there won't be much choice left!"

Julia studied him for a moment, pretending to consider her options. Johnny Walker was tall-ish, five eleven or maybe even six feet. He had a plain, open, honest sort of face that had an instant appeal to the young Petty officer, his shoulders were broad enough to fill his shirt comfortably, and he was neither fat, forty, or bald, and had nice, even teeth. "Oh, in that case, let's eat first. I'm starving!" Julia smiled.

"OK, but you'd best park the car here, so if you get your gear, I'll drive us over to the cookhouse.

"OK, it's your barrio!" Julia grinned.

Neither of them had figured out the implications of Julia climbing into the Landrover while wearing her service dress skirt, but the effort she had made to get into her seat had succeeded in exposing a long length of her very shapely leg to Johnny Walker's very appreciative eye. An eye of which Julia was not totally unaware, but one which somehow, she didn't mind too much.

"You got any civvies with you?" Johnny asked nonchalantly.

"Just jeans and a T, for lounging around in," Julia answered. Her heart rate increasing slightly. This almost sounded as if he was going to ask her for a date.

"Uh… it's a bit… quiet around here in the evenings… especially if you're in transit, and on your own," Johnny said, wondering how the hell an open necked shirt could be tight around his throat, "so, I wondered if maybe you'd like to come for a swift half in the NAAFI later on?"

"Oh… I'm not sure…" Julia prevaricated, "but… but I guess it would be OK…"

Johnny felt an immense burden lifted off his shoulders. She hadn't sounded too enthusiastic, but at least she hadn't said 'no'!


	5. Chapter 5

5

"We've got to do something about those two!" Johnny Walker said emphatically as he and Julia Martinez, walked across from the female accommodation towards the NAAFI bar.

"You mean our two Captains?" Julia asked for confirmation.

"Yes, if we don't we are not going to enjoy the next two days..." Johnny thought for a moment, "And I just don't get it. I mean I know she's unhappy at having to be your man's host officer, but I've seen her cope with unwelcome duties before, and this just isn't like her... it's like she's had a sense of humour by-pass..."

"H'mm... almost the same with Captain Rabb, except that I don't know him that well. He's only been in post for just coming on six weeks, and he's still reading himself in. I do know that he doesn't like outside interference, so a direct intervention isn't going to go down well! What I don't understand is why the top brass are sending a Navy attorney to an army firepower demonstration!"

"Who knows how the brass hats think!?" Johnny contributed.

"That's a great help!" Julia said tartly and then, "Oh, I'm sorry, I shouldn't be taking it out on you, I'm just a bit worried about the Captain!"

Johnny gave her a sideways glance, "H'mm, you say you've only worked with him since he's been here in the UK, and that's only been a couple of weeks?"

"Yeah, that's right, why?"

"Well, if you're that worried about him in such a short space of time, he must be one hell of a boss!"

Julia grinned, "Yeah, he is..."

"But I didn't ask you to come for a drink so we could ramble on about our Captains two, but so I could listen to you talk about yourself!" Johnny replied.

"Oh..." Julia said, surprised into silence and thankful for the dusk which hid her reddened cheeks.

xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx

Gill checked her reflection in the mirror, and frowned. Not that there was anything wrong with her appearance, in fact the source of her frown was the feeling of impatience she had with herself. The dress she wore, while sleeveless was modestly cut, with a slight scooped neckline front and back, definitely alluring without being overly provocative, with a flowing skirt that fell to mid calf. It was one of her favourite dresses, of bottle green shot silk, that shone a bronze green as she moved, and felt superbly feminine after a day in Lightweight Trouser and OG Shirt. The colour suited her down to a T, bringing out the auburn in her hair, and emphasising the hint of green of her eyes. It was a dress that she normally loved wearing.

But why had she chosen it tonight, she wasn't, most definitely wasn't, on the prowl, and while she was compelled by mess form to sit next to the Yank, she didn't even like him, and the dress, and its effect would probably be lost on him, as he seemed so hostile to her too. Her hand went to the zip at the back of her neck, as she decided to change into something else, maybe the black...

"Hell, no!" she thought savagely, "I put this on to cheer me up after a crappy day, and no damn sailor is going to make me settle for second best. No matter what he thinks!"

xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx

Gill was sitting in her favourite chair in the ante-room, her gin and tonic untouched on the end table next to her when Colonel Mike approached her. She rose to her feet, automatically inclined her head slightly and said "Good evening Colonel."

"Good evening, Gill," and then looked pointedly sat his watch, "Your American chappie's a bit late?" the rising inflection as well as the cock of an eyebrow invited her to supply an answer as to why her guest should be late.

Gill glanced at her watch, "Yes, he is, I'm sorry Colonel, perhaps I should have walked him down, but we, I mean I, said for us to meet here."

"I'm sure you had reasons for being so unconventional, Gill, but yes... it might not have been a bad idea... make that little extra effort for a guest, don't you think?" Colonel Mike said softly

Softly spoken the words might have been but it was still a rebuke and Gill flushed under its lash, "Yes, Colonel, I should have made the effort. I have no excuse."

"Good," The Colonel smiled gently, "Recognition of a fault is halfway to correcting it. Now why don't you run along and see if you can find our guest, before the dinner gong."

"Yes, of course, Colonel."

"Oh and drop in on Tony Latham at some stage on Monday morning, Gill, I'm sure he shares my sentiments."

"Yes, Colonel," Gill said, resigned now to at least a week of extra Regimental Field Officer duty as punishment for her lapse.

Gill didn't have to look far or long for the missing visitor, Harm was only a few steps short of the ante-room, having being rescued from his wanderings about the corridors by a mess orderly, who smiled at the sight of Gill, "Evening, Ma'am, I discovered this American gentleman, he looked a bit lost..."

"Never lost," Harm grinned, "just temporarily spatially disoriented, although I will say this place is a bit bigger on the inside than it looks from the outside!"

Gill couldn't help the hastily stifled gurgle of laughter that escaped her, the Captain's grin and the whimsical nature of his words touched a chord within her, and his appearance didn't hurt either. He was wearing an immaculately tailored mid-grey two piece suit with a white shirt and a dark blue tie covered with tiny gold emblems that looked for all the world like pilots' wings. 'Of course they are!' she told herself, 'The man is a pilot, as well as a lawyer!'

Gill turned to the orderly and smiled in turn, "Thank you Groombridge, I'll look after the Captain from here!"

With a murmured, "Yes, ma'am." Gunner Groombridge faded into the background before he turned and left Gill and Harm on their own.

"Captain Rabb, I am so sorry. I should have minded my manners and arranged to call for you and walk you down. I'm afraid that we tend to forget just how much of a labyrinth this place can be for visitors."

Harm blinked, his first impressions hadn't misled him, Gill Shephard was a very attractive woman, especially in that dress. It certainly had style, and looked as if it was made of silk, it hinted at rather than exposed her figure, and the colour suited her, contrasting nicely with her hair and emphasising the colour of her eyes. Her voice was much more... musical, he supposed was the right term, now that she wasn't being so curt, so clipped, so Hollywood British and she had a rather wonderful smile, which at the moment was turned towards him.

He gave himself a mental shake, as the smile started to fade to be replaced by a questioning look. "Uh... I'm sorry," he said, feeling just slightly tongue-tied. "I do try not to be late, but I could have done with an Ariadne to help me out here."

"Yes, that should have been me. My apologies, Captain."

"Yeah... we seemed to have gotten off on the wrong foot, Captain Shephard, and neither of us seem to have wanted to spend time in the other's company. It's going to be a difficult two days if all we do is snap and snarl at each other, so what say we try to make a fresh start?"

Gill looked him in the eyes, there was a faint smile on his face and... yes... almost a pleading look in his eyes, and before she could think about it, she felt her own smile spread across her face, "Yes, it will be difficult if we can't be civil. My apologies Captain Rabb, I was unreasonably hostile to you when we met, so I must take the blame for our breakdown in communication."

"Well, I guess I could have been a little less touchy?" Harm offered as his piece of the olive branch.

"You don't seriously expect me to answer that, do you?" Gill smiled.

"Sure, go ahead, after all, what are few bruised feelings among friends?"

"Are we friends?" Gill asked incredulously.

"I think we're going to be," Harm smiled.

"Yes, I think I'd like that." Gill replied, "But I also think we'd better go in, before Colonel Mike sends out a search party for both of us!"

"Colonel Mike?" Harm queried as he opened the door through which Gill had come and stood back to allow her to precede him.

"Our CO, he's dining in tonight." Gill told him.

"Tonight? He doesn't dine in every night?"

"No, of course not, he's married, so most nights he has dinner with his family." Gill looked around the ante-room, "he's over here, I'll introduce him to you."

Gill waited until the was pause in the conversation between her CO and the Quartermaster before she spoke, "Colonel?"

Colonel Mike turned, and his hawk like face split into a brief smile, "Ah Gill, good you found him!"

"Yes, Colonel," Gill mumbled, as the red rose into her cheeks, and then recovered, "Captain Harmon Rabb, may I introduce to you, Lieutenant Colonel Michael Harrington, our CO and Major Harry Tucker, Quartermaster."

Both regimental officers drew themselves up, but without going into a rigid brace, "Good evening, sir," they chorused and Colonel Mike continued, "Welcome to the Mess, and indeed to the Regiment!"

Harm returned the greeting, "Good evening Colonel, Major, thank you. I'm looking forward to enjoying my visit, and learning a bit more about your army."

"Oh, don't think you'll manage that, sir!" Colonel Mike grinned, "We Gunners like to think of ourselves as being a bit different from the common herd! Mind you" he added with his easy smile, "so does every other regiment in the army!"

Harm grinned in return at what he saw as a joke being played on a visitor. Not that he was upset, as jokes went it was very mild, and certainly not malicious. "Well, I'll do the best I can, then Colonel!"

"Good man!" Colonel Mike exclaimed, "But this is appalling, Gillian, the Captain hasn't got a drink! Get him sorted out will you, please!"

"Of course, Colonel!" Gill smiled, "Captain?" and indicated that he should walk with her.

As he accompanied her towards the bar, Harm said, "Well that was a bit formal!"

"Oh?" Gill looked up at him in surprise.

"Colonel, this and Colonel, that," he commented.

"Oh, that's just because he's the CO. He is always addressed as Colonel, whether in the Mess or in the Orderly Room. Everyone else in the Mess is usually addressed by their first names, but the Colonel is always the Colonel, and never 'sir'. You won't find that written down in QRs anywhere, it's a custom that has evolved over the years, and not all regiments, not even all Gunner regiments, have the same custom!"

"QRs?" Harm queried.

Gill gave a little gurgle of laughter, "Oh, I'm sorry, sir. Queen's Regulations For The Army," she intoned with false gravity. "The rock upon which all military discipline is founded, our sacred cow and bible all rolled into one! Now, what can I get you to drink?" she asked as they arrived at the bar.

"Oh, no allow me," Harm protested.

"Uh, I'm afraid you can't, sir," Gill said quietly and apologetically, "You're not a member of the Mess, you see."

"Oh," for a second Harm was stunned. He didn't like the idea of a woman buying him a drink, but then he reflected, 'when in Rome, speak Latin', and managed a half-smile and said to the bar tender, Gunner Miller, "Do you have a bourbon?"

"Only Jack Daniels, sir" Miller replied and waited for the tall officer's decision.

Harm nodded, it wasn't his favourite, but... "Yes, thank you. On the rocks please."

"With ice, sir?" Miller asked, the American term being wholly foreign to him.

"Uh... yes... that would be great, thank you!"

"And a G and T, slice and ice, for me please Miller."

"Yes ma'am, and ma'am have you checked the seating plan for tonight?"

"There's a seating plan?" Gill raised her eyebrows in surprise. A seating plan was not something that generally made an appearance on informal nights.

"Yes ma'am, and it might be a good idea if you gave it a butcher's"

Gill nodded, "Thank you, Miller! Captain, shall we?"

"Butcher's?" Harm asked bemusedly.

Gill smiled, "Rhyming slang, Butcher's is a Butcher's Hook – a look. In other words Miller was recommending that I check the seating plan, probably because whatever caught his eye affects me, and probably you too."

"Me? Why?"

"Because you're my guest, and we should be seated next to each other..."

By this time they had reached the easel by the doors to the dining room, on which rested a green baize covered cork board, to which was pinned the seating plan.

Gill gave it a swift perusal and pursed he lips in a soundless whistle. "Well, it certainly does affect us! You're up at the top of the table on the Colonel's right, and I'm one down on your right!"

"Is that unusual?" Harm asked.

"Umm... well... yes. It's a little difficult to explain. If you were here as a guest of the mess, then it would be natural for you to be at the Colonel's right, but I would be down somewhere towards the other end, below the salt as it were. But you're here as my guest and would normally sit with me, but because you out-rank everyone in the regiment, you have to be at the top of the table, and I as your host have to be seated with you. Does that make any sense?" she ended hopefully.

Harm smiled, and it was the first full-blown smile since he'd driven into the barracks, Gill's heart was nearly stopped by its brilliance, and she hardly heard his answer as she at last realised what Sue Marshal had been quick to see from his photograph.

"Yeah it does, kinda," Harm replied, but almost totally at sea and swamped by the intricacies of Mess etiquette.

Fortunately for them both the dining room doors opened at that moment, and a Mess waiter appeared with a hand-held, heavily engraved brass gong, which when struck with its padded beater sent a sonorous note rolling through the bar and ante-room.

"That's our signal to go in to dinner," Gill murmured as other Mess members strolled in their direction, nobody, or so it seemed to Harm making any great exertion.

"I'll just take that," Gill said removing his half consumed drink from Harm's unresisting fingers and placing both their drinks on a side table, turned back to him and said brightly, "Shall we go in?"

"No drinks at the table?" Harm asked in surprise, as some instinct prompted him to offer Gill his arm.

"No bar drinks," Gill corrected him gently, laying her hand on his forearm and smiling up at him as the entered the dining room.

Marie Westwood who had hoped for a chance to talk to the tall, good-looking American officer had her plans thwarted by his late arrival in the ante-room and then by his company being monopolised by the CO and now by that plain little mouse Shephard. She snorted in disgust when she saw them enter the dining room and muttered to herself, "What a tart!"

"Really, Marie, you shouldn't judge other people by your own low standards" an icy voice hissed in her ear.

Startled, the curvaceous brunette turned to find herself looking into the contemptuous face of Sue Marshall, who gave her the merest hint of a smile and swept on ahead, her now smiling face turned to Lieutenant Peter Micklewood, on whose arm her own hand rested.

Still reeling from the shock of having 'Barbie Doll' Marshall accost her, Marie was only rescued from her daze by the voice of Mark Underwood, one of 98 Battery's Troop Commanders, "Never mind, Mata Hari, I still love you!"

Shooting him a glance filled with loathing and dislike, Marie stalked into the dining room, leaving Underwood with a grin on his face as he watched the unpopular Lieutenant walk away.

Gill conducted Harm to his place and stood behind her chair, obviously waiting, so Harm stood too, his head turned towards her, and an eyebrow cocked inquiringly.

"We wait for everyone to take their place," she said in an undertone, "and then the Mess President – that's the Colonel tonight – will sit and that's the signal for us all to take our seats. Oh, then there'll be..." she looked around, "a short grace before the first course is served."

Almost before she had finished speaking, the Colonel arrived at the head of the table and stood for a moment until he was satisfied that everyone was present, and then he gave a nod and drew out his chair as a Mess Waiter closed the door to the dining room.

Gill prepared to sit and was pleasantly surprised when she found that Harm was holding her chair for her, sliding it under her as she sat. She thanked him with a smile, which he returned, both of them thinking that they might just have badly misjudged the other at their initial meeting.

Silence fell on the table once everyone was seated, until Colonel Mike have double checked that neither of the Chaplains were present, tapped twice with his knife on his wine glass, and lowered his head. Harm noted that all present followed his example, and then after a short pause, the Colonel said, "Almighty God, from whom all blessings flow, we, your servants, humbly thank you this day for your bounty." Finishing with an "Amen" which was chorused from all around the table.

There were advantages and disadvantages to being at the head of the table as Harm discovered, sure, they were the first to be served, but also had the longest to wait before eating as a quick glance down the table showed that it was customary to wait for all to be served before starting to eat.

This custom was obviously taken into account for by whoever was responsible for setting the menu, as the first course proved to be a watermelon and cucumber gazpacho, which was as welcome to Harm as it was unexpected. Taken slightly by surprise he leaned slightly towards Gill and asked in an undertone, "Is this a regular soup, or specially for my vegetarian prejudices?"

"Not at all," she smiled, "it's Sergeant McGowan's trademark soup for summer dinners. He serves it up at least three times a month during the summer – that is when we have a summer!" she finished with a grin.

"H'mmm... I'm guessing then that the last three weeks have been unusual?"

"Absolutely, we're just waiting for the bubble to burst!" Gill confirmed, and then picking up on his comment about three weeks, she asked, "I think from something I read that you haven't been in the UK very long?"

"No, just six weeks or so," Harm admitted, "so I'm still trying to find my feet, and" he grinned ruefully, "I was put to shame by my driver's knowledge of the UK, it's driving laws and of the British Army!"

"Oh?" Gill said, inviting him to continue.

"Well I've been so work oriented that I haven't had time to get out and about and see anything of the country apart from the road between Northolt and London," Harm confessed, "and I really must get out a bit and explore, otherwise I'm likely to end up in the dog house!"

"I'm surprised you're not already!"

"Oh?" Harm asked.

"Yes, I mean, if you're working so hard that you haven't got time to get out and about, then your family must be upset with you, at least a little bit..."

"No, no family." Harm said flatly and Gill picked up a note in his voice that told her this was not a subject of conversation in which he would indulge.

"Oh... But is your work so demanding that you really don't have time to get out and explore or just relax and enjoy yourself? Oh... I'm sorry, it's bad form to talk shop in the Mess!" Gill apologised with a further blush as she caught Colonel Mike's disapproving eye.

"Oh... well, that's going to make it kind of hard to have a conversation, as all I ever seem to do is work!" Harm grinned, "Not that I'm complaining, but it does kind of put a damper on a social evening. Which just goes to prove that I do need to get out and about more!"

"No, surely you must have some other topics of conversation than just work!" Gill protested, "How about back in the USA? Where did you live? Where did you grow up, what's it like? Have you got no family there. At all?" Gill said with unabashed curiosity.

"Well I'm a SoCal – Southern California – boy by birth and upbringing, my Mom and Step-dad live at La Jolla..."

"That's near San Diego, isn't it?" Colonel Mike interjected.

"Indeed it is, Colonel," Harm said with a note of surprise in his voice, "Do you know the area?"

"I served a couple of tours with two nine regiment, they're the Gunners who support Three Commando Brigade, and we paid a courtesy call to San Diego in the _Bulwark_ in … oh... it must have been seventy or seventy-one. I don't remember much of the city, but where we were of course, it was choc a bloc with sailors and swarming with Marines! But a couple of us did manage to rent a car and get out of the city for a couple of days, and do a bit of exploring. If I remember correctly we spent a day on the beach at La Jolla." He pronounced it in typically British fashion, exactly as it was spelled, somehow making the area sound much less attractive than it was.

Harm grinned, "It hasn't changed that much since your day, Colonel, except that there are fewer Marines around than there used to be. A lot of them are deployed in the sandbox these days," he ended on a sombre note.

"Yes, a bad business all round, that," Colonel Mike replied enigmatically, "But go on, you were saying about growing up in California?"

"Yeah, I guess I was pretty lucky. Frank, my Step-Dad had a good enough job so that we were never hard up, the house is almost on the beach, so I was swimming and surfing almost before I could walk. Of course we don't have the diversity of weather that you have here in England, so its pretty warm all the year round but without the humidity that you sometimes get on the east coast. In fact," he chuckled, "I didn't really appreciate temperature variations until my first winter at Annapolis!"

"That's your Navy academy isn't it?" Gill asked.

"Yes... it's just about the best university in the states!" Harm bragged.

"Better than Yale or Harvard?" Gill asked with a glint of amusement in her eye.

"Damn straight!" Harm announced emphatically, bringing several pairs of eyes to bear on himself, some amused others vaguely disapproving.

"Better than West Point, too?" Gill asked just innocently enough for Harm, to realise that he was being ever so gently teased.

"Oh, West Point does well enough for soldiers..." Harm began and then remembered where he was and realised what he had been about to say, and stumbled to a halt as more pairs of eyes swivelled in his direction and the colour began to mount in his cheeks.

His blushes, however, were spared as Colonel Mike gave a crack of laughter, and threw his head back, "That's one in the eye for you young Gill!" he laughed, "Well done that man!" he smiled at Harm.

Harm felt an overwhelming sense of relief and silently vowed that he would not only thank the Colonel for his intervention, but would also apologise for his lapse in manners.

The general buzz of conversation rose again as the diners laid aside their soup spoons and Gill turned towards Harm and said, "Sir, I am so sorry... that was all my fault. If I hadn't tried to wind you up..."

"Captain Shephard, I am quite proud of my ability to make a fool out of myself, so I don't need you trying to steal any of the credit!" Harm said and then grinned disarmingly.

"Thank you sir, that's more than generous," Gill said fervently.

The rest of dinner passed without incident, both Gill and Harm making a conscious effort to steer the conversation away from contentious subjects, Gill going so far as to ask Harm to explain the intricacies of American Football, as she called it, and in return trying to explain how cricket was played.

As she had a far from perfect knowledge of the game herself, she brought forth frequent interruptions to fill in her gaps of knowledge from both the Colonel and Captain Tom Pierce, sat to her right.

Eventually Harm shook his head in dismayed confusion, "And you mean to tell me that after five days play, from eleven in the morning to about seven in the evening, they can still end up with a tie?"

"Ah, that's the trouble with you youngsters," Colonel Mike said sadly, completely forgetting for the moment that Harm outranked him, and wasn't all that much younger anyway, "You all want an instant decision, now!"

Gill was betrayed into a peal of laughter at her CO's gaffe, which drew one his 'proud eagle' glares, as she called them, in her direction, but he was quick enough to realise the absurdity of what he had just said, and graceful enough to laugh at himself for being "So damn' pretentious," as he apologised, "You must understand sir, that I'm from Yorkshire, and up there we don't really consider cricket to be a game, it's more of a religion!"

xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx

Gill had just unzipped her dress and was preparing to step out of it when there came a familiar knock at her door, "One moment!" she called out, and hung her dress on a hangar before shrugging into her crimson silk kimono, a present from her brother David when he'd returned from his recent Far East deployment.

"OK, you can come in now," she called, and as she had expected the door opened to allow Sue Marshall to slip into her room.

"Ooh!" the blonde said mischievously as she sat on the end of Gill's bed, her feet tucked up beneath her and took in Gill's oriental splendour, "Are we expecting someone?"

"No, we are not!" Gill said with an air of resignation.

"No, of course not," Sue said mournfully and shook her head in mock despair, "Sometimes I think I'll just have to give up on you! Although I was wondering if you'd be here when I knocked, and to be honest I was half hoping you weren't!"

Gill looked at Sue with a puzzled expression on her face, "What on earth...? Where else would I be at this time of night?"

"Well, after you and that gorgeous hunk of a sailor..." Sue looked at Gill's expression, "Oh come on Gill, he _is_ totally gorgeous!"

"Alright, he's not totally repulsive, I'll grant you that," Gill conceded.

"OK... I can just about live with that," Sue replied and then continued, "Anyway, after you and he sneaked out of the Mess, I thought you might have gone for a stroll around the gardens, or maybe were having a little nightcap in his room. After all," she looked around Gill's room rather disparagingly, "It's got to be better than this dump!"

Gill looked at her friend in exasperation, "Firstly we did not 'sneak' out of the Mess, we made our proper goodnights to the Colonel, and then I walked Captain Rabb back to his room..." she glared at Sue as the blonde raised an ironic eyebrow, "The poor man got lost on his way to the ante-room before dinner, and I had to go and find him!"

"Ah... so that's why you stuck to him like glue, all evening, was it? Nothing to do with not letting any of us other girls anywhere near him?"

"No it wasn't!" Gill snapped, and then drew a breath, "Secondly I would not go for a midnight stroll with a man I've only just met, and neither would I go to his room for a little nightcap or anything else! And thirdly, this room is not a dump! It is exactly the same as yours, except that it is a damn sight tidier!"

"Now that is just about the only truthful thing you've said to me all evening, Gillian Anne Shephard!" Sue accused her.

"Sue Marshall! You are skating on very thin ice!" Gill told her.

"But, dahling, I always skate on thin ice. If I skate on thick ice, then there's no chance of falling through and then being rescued by the man of my dreams!" Sue drawled in her parody of a Drury Lane diva's voice.

"Which man and which dream?" Gill asked acerbically.

"Oh that doesn't matter in the slightest," Sue said waving a hand in airy dismissal of irrelevant details, "As long as it's one of them!"

Gill shook her head in fond disbelief, "Honestly, Sue, if anyone who didn't know you heard the way you talk they'd think you were a raving nymphomaniac!"

"Well, maybe I am!" Sue declared roundly.

"I don't think so..." Gill chanted, "I happen to know that unless you got it together with Hamish..."

"Alexander," Sue corrected her.

"Whatever!" Gill continued, "Unless you got it together with him on Burns Night, I happen to know that you've been celibate since the Halloween party!"

"Who told you that?" Sue exploded indignantly.

"You did," Gill replied dryly.

"Oh... I was afraid of that," Sue said theatrically crestfallen, and then perked up again, "OK, back to the subject at hand... so give me the dirt, what's he like, is he still single, or married, maybe divorced?"

"Well... he said he no family to complain about all the overtime he's put in..." Gill began.

xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx

They had walked side by side back from the NAAFI bar to the accommodation, not holding hands, but close enough for them to occasionally bump shoulders, and stopped just outside the female barrack block, just outside the pool of light emanating from the lamp over the door, "Thanks Julia, it was a nice evening," Johnny said

"Yeah, I enjoyed it too," Julia replied, "I liked your friends too. Well, some of them anyway!"

"Yep, they're not a bad bunch of lads, and I reckon that you made more than one or two conquests there this evening!"

"What, just 'cos I beat them at pool?"

"Yeah, well about the only version we play this side of the pond is 'slop', playing nomination pool for points is pretty foreign to us."

"Well... maybe... But the next time, we could try to get on the snooker table and then they could show me just how it's done?"

"Is there going to be a next time?" Johnny queried slightly breathlessly.

"I hope so..." Julia murmured.

Johnny stood for am moment racked with indecision, "You'd better go in, " he told her, "We've an early start tomorrow. Combat kit, don't forget, and I'll pick you up for breakfast at oh six hundred."

Julia nodded, "Yeah, I guess. Goodnight, Johnny."

"Goodnight Julia," Johnny replied and stood watching until the door swung shut behind her.


	6. Chapter 6

**6**

At oh five fifty hours the next morning Bombardier Johnny Walker rang the doorbell to the female accommodation barrack block and stood back to await an answer. He wasn't kept waiting long, Julia Martinez, still slightly sleepy, bustled out of the door and stood shivering for a moment in the dawn chill.

She looked about her in disbelief, "How's this going work in this... fog? Is it going to be worth the hassle of … everything?"

"Sure is!" Johnny told her emphatically but not without a feeling of sympathy. "This just morning mist, give it another hour or so and it'll be as clear as a bell. If the met boys have got it right - ha! - it's going to be a scorcher too, about twenty eight degrees in the shade by lunchtime – and there's precious little shade on the plain!" and as he looked at her BDU's he grinned, "If you and your Captain are wearing the same, you're going to be better off than the BK and me! You've got those floppy brimmed hats, they'll give you some shade, her and me have to wear these damned berets! So no shade, and what's more they're dark, and going to attract the heat like anything!" As he finished speaking, he opened the Landrover door for Julia and watched her climb in, regretting briefly that she was wearing BDU pants and not her service dress skirt.

Julia settled herself into the passenger seat, and smiled across at Johnny as he climbed in behind the wheel, "What's twenty eight degrees in real temperature?" she queried.

"Um... Oh... yeah... about eighty two, eighty three degrees," Johnny replied, having done a quick mental calculation.

Julia blinked, she had only meant to tease the Brit, but his quick comeback intrigued her, "How did you do that so quickly?" she asked.

"Oh, it's only a rough method – if I had pen and paper handy I could work it out exactly, but for a quick calc, just double the Celsius figure, add thirty to that, and then knock a couple of degrees off – the higher the temperature the more you knock off. This time, 'cos it was in the high twenties, when I converted I knocked off three degrees from the final answer, At twenty degrees, I'd just knock off two from the result. Like I say," he shrugged, "It's just a rough equivalent, but near enough for everyday purposes."

Julia shook her head and grinned across at him. The rest of the drive to the cookhouse – all two minutes of it was spent in silence.

Julia found it quite a contrast from dinner the evening before. The huge room was devoid of life except for two men in chef's whites, busying themselves preparing some three hundred breakfasts. Johnny crossed to the hot plate and called one of them, "Hey, Dusty, your two early breakfasts are here, and we'll need the four haverbags booked for the BK one seven four. Is there a brew mashed, yet?"

"Course there is," Corporal Dusty Miller, grunted as he passed an opened GP Ration Box across to Johnny.

Johnny gave the contents a quick visual check and grinned, "Thanks, Dusty, that's grand! I owe you!"

"Yeah, and don't you forget it!" He turned to his scurrying minion, "Where are those early breakfasts? Honestly," he turned back to Johnny and said disparagingly, "I dunno where they get 'em from these days!"

"Same place as they got us a few years back!" Johnny grinned.

"Christ almighty, we weren't that bad were we?" Dusty grinned and then with a mock sigh of despondency, he went to chivvy the Private Chef.

Johnny dropped the box next to a table and turned to Julia, "Tea?" he asked.

"No coffee?" she asked plaintively.

"You should be so unlucky" Johnny said not unsympathetically, "and be thankful it's tea. Look, army tea is pretty bad, but it's drinkable, but the slop-jockeys have never managed to get their heads around making coffee, and to be honest, it's bloody awful coffee to start with!"

"So... it's tea or nothing?" Julia asked.

"'Fraid so..."

"Oh well, in that case, yes, I'd love a cup of tea," Julia twinkled at him

xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx

Gill knocked on the door of Captain Rabb's room, and to her surprise heard him call "Enter!" Cautiously opening the door she said, "It's Captain Shephard, sir. Are you decent?"

"Yes, come on in," Harm replied as Gill heard the characteristic one-two stamp of someone settling their bloused trousers over their boots. She entered the room just as he picked up his floppy brimmed hat, or his 'cover' as she had learned the US Navy called their headdress.

"Are you about ready for breakfast, sir?" she asked.

"Yeah, sure am!" he grinned, "but don't think I didn't enjoy dinner last night!"

"I wouldn't dream of it, sir!" she assured him. "Can I give you a hand with anything, sir? If you take your kit down with you, it'll save an extra trip!"

"Yeah," Harm grinned, "And if I walk down with you, it might even save me from wandering the hallways for another half hour or so!"

Gill blushed, 'That smile ought to be illegal!' she thought indignantly, 'I mean, he's not bad looking, not really, but that smile does something to his whole face!', but she also blushed as she recalled her lapse in manners of the previous evening just because she'd been sulking about a duty she'd never wanted. And it must have been as bad for him, she had picked up subtle hints that he wasn't too happy being here, either.'

"Truly, sir, I am sorry about that!"

"Don't worry about it, Captain. It was a suitable sized portion of humility, just about my big enough!"

Gill chuckled and indicated his suit bag, "Can I take that for you, sir? My stuff is already downstairs!"

Harm raised his eyebrows slightly, "No, I'll take that, it's got my Mess Dress and my Service Dress Whites in it, and is probably heavier than this," he hefted his sea-bag.

"Are you taking all your kit, sir?" Gill asked in surprise, "I will be perfectly safe here."

"I'm sure it will Captain, but I intend leaving for London as soon as the demonstration is over tomorrow!"

Gill stiffened, "Of course, sir. I'm sure I can understand your keenness to get back to civilisation!"

"Oh, Lord!" Harm groaned, "Please, there's no need to poker up, Captain. I didn't mean to imply that I was eager to get away from yo – from here. It's just that I have a lot to do next week before I return to the States, and I want to get a head start on it!"

"You're going back to States?" Gill asked, furrowing her brow, 'if he was going back to the USA, why all the fuss to get him to Larkhill Day?'

"Oh, only a temporary thing, Captain. I'm going back for the Fourth of July weekend, primarily to check on my ward - " Harm cut himself off, conscious that he had nearly said too much.

"Your ward, sir?" Gill couldn't resist asking and then wished she could bite her tongue off.

"Yes, I'm applying for legal adoption so that she can leave the States and come to live with me here. The hearing is on Monday."

'Ah! That's why he was so anti coming here!' Gill thought. "I wish you all the best with that, then, sir!"

"No, do you? Why?" Harm asked interestedly.

"Well... it's obvious that it's something that you want... that it's important to you.. and I... I don't wish to... to... see you disappointed... I mean, I know we got off on the wrong foot, but that doesn't mean that I... Oh, dear..." Gill broke off, red-faced with confusion and with embarrassment, "I'm not doing a very good job of explaining this, am I?" she finished with a half-smile.

"No, you're not." Harm agreed gravely, "But thank you for your good wishes! Now, shall we head for the breakfast table?"

"Of course, sir! But your uniforms; you might have difficulty finding somewhere to change after the demo finishes tomorrow..."

"Oh... I hadn't thought of that!" Harm admitted, taking his turn to be embarrassed. "Just one moment, then!" He laid the suit bag flat on the bed and unzipped it, removing his Dress Whites and turning hung them in the closet, or wardrobe, as the Brits called it. Re zipping the bag, he hefted it in one hand and his sea-bag in the other

"Well, with my Dress Whites gone, I think I can manage both of these! Captain, lead the way!"

"Yes, sir!" Gill replied crisply.

xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx

Johnny and Julia drew themselves up into the 'at attention' stance and saluted as Harm and Gill, both carrying suitbags and overnight gear emerged from the doors to the Mess and made their way down the stone steps to the tarmac hard standing.

The two officers dropped their overnight bags and returned their subordinates' salutes; Johnny thought it was weird that Julia held her salute until her boss had returned it, while Julia was shocked to see Johnny's hand come back down to his side, before Captain Shephard had returned his salute.

But the formalities, accompanied by a litany of "Good morning, sir, ma'am" completed, Johnny hopped into the back of the Landrover and carefully hung both suitbags from the frame that supported the canvas tilt and equally carefully stowed both Harm's sea-bag and Gill's overnight bag alongside the radios attached to the bulkhead that divided the cab from the rear of the vehicle.

He jumped back down from the vehicle into the middle of a spirited discussion between Captain USN and Captain RA.

"It's not going to happen Captain!" Harm declared firmly. "There is no way I am sitting up front, while you are being thrown around in the back of that... that... thing!" he expostulated.

"You don't have any choice, sir!" Gill argued, "It's protocol! The senior officer – which is you today – rides up front, and the peasants – which today is me and your driver, well, we ride back here!"

"Protocol or no damn' protocol, I can't let a wo..."

"Don't you dare call me a woman!" Gill erupted. "As far as you are concerned, I am nothing more than just another officer!"

Harm groaned, "For Christ's sake, don't you dare tell me 'I'm a Marine'!"

Gill almost took a step back in surprise, "Why on earth would I do that?" she snapped.

"Because I had a Marine partner, who... Oh! Nice try at deflection, Captain, but it's still not working! You ride up front, and I'll ride in back!"

"Can't do it, sir!" Gill said, her mouth set in a stubborn line and her chin jutting forwards, pugnaciously "My CO would have..."

Johnny had listened to this dispute conscious of impatience as time was wasting, but unsure whether his primary emotion was that of amusement or frustration, but whichever it was, he took the plunge. "Sir, ma'am?"

They both turned to glare at him, "What?" they demanded in unison.

"Umm... just a suggestion, but seeing as how you can't make up your minds about who's riding where, why not let the Petty Officer ride up front with me? And then you can both ride in the back!" Johnny smiled disarmingly.

Both officers stared at him, stunned both by his suggestion and by the fact that he had the gall to make it in the first place, while Julia gazed at him in horrified surprise.

"Bombardier!" Gill rapped out.

"Ma'am?" Johnny replied courteously.

"One day, Bombardier, one day that smart mouth will get you the DCM you so richly deserve!" Gill managed to keep a straight face, although she too was now torn between anger and amusement.

"Yes, ma'am!" Johnny replied totally unabashed, "And when it does, it's still you I'll be asking for as Prisoner's Friend, ma'am!"

Harm was hard put not to intervene, but he could not meddle in the internal discipline of a British Army regiment, and as he reached that decision, he not only saw the funny side of the situation, but he was strongly reminded of the times that Coates had subtly chewed his ass for being more than ordinarily dumb.

"Uh... Captain Shephard?" he said quietly.

"Sir?"

"My apologies, I was being – in the words of my Yeoman – more than ordinarily dumb. If it is protocol and breaking it would bring the wrath of Colonel Mike down on your head, then of course I must do as you request. You may ride in back, and I will ride up front."

Gill heaved a sigh of relief, "Thank you, Sir! Petty Officer," she turned to Julia, "you first!"

"Aye, aye, ma'am!" Julia replied and scrambled into the vehicle, heartily glad to be out of what had looked like becoming an embarrassing incident.

Johnny closed the tailgate, and looked into the interior, where the two women now sat, "It's going to be a scorcher, ma'am," he said conversationally, "Did either of you think to bring any sun-block?"

Julia shook her head, while Gill looked chagrined, "I can nip back up and..."

"No worries, ma'am!" Johnny fished in the left breast pocket of his combat smock and produced a small, brown, plastic bottle, "SPF thirty five, ma'am. Pass it on to the Petty Officer, when you're done, please!"

Yes, of course," Gill said and then grinned, "Bom, you're going to make some lucky woman a hell of wife one day!"

Johnny just grinned in return and disappeared around the driver's side of the vehicle, where in a few seconds he climbed in, settled himself behind the wheel and turned the ignition key.

xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx

Harm sat back and gripped one handed on the superstructure as the Landrover bounced over the sun-baked ruts in the Salisbury Plain chalk, and glanced across the width of the cab where Johnny, having dropped the vehicle into second gear fought the bucking, kicking, steering wheel.

Johnny felt the American Captain's eye on him and grinned sideways, "Nearly there, sir! Just a couple of hundred yards to go!" he nodded to a cluster of vehicle some hundred yards behind what looked like, to Harm's eye, a widely spaced row of tanks.

"Good!" Harm gritted between his teeth as an exceptionally deep rut threatened to bounce his head off the superstructure.

"It could be worse, sir!" Johnny shouted over the noise of the vehicle, "It could be raining!"

Harm looked up at the cloudless blue sky, and then gave Johnny a 'You've got to be kidding!' look, before shaking his head in resignation.

In the rear of the vehicle there was nothing much that either Captain RA or Petty Officer USN could do except grab hold of the superstructure and hang on grimly as the Landrover bucked, crawled and leaped across the ruts carved into the unforgiving chalk by the passage of thousands of vehicles over the years.

Consequently, it was with distinct feeling of relief that they realised they had reached their destination, and gratefully dismounted. Harm looking around with interest to see that they were now about a hundred yards behind the tanks, while off to the rear some three to four hundred yards were what he instinctively thought of as a set of bleachers, now crammed with the uniforms of half a dozen different NATO armies.

Johnny could hardly hide a smile, while he and Captain Rabb still looked reasonably neat and tidy, Captain Shephard and Julia were both covered in head to foot with a fine powdering of chalk dust, the inescapable result of travelling across the plain in an open backed vehicle in this sort of weather. Taking pity on them he fumbled his keys out of his pocket and opened one of the two stowage bins under the seats in the back of the vehicle and pulled put a folding canvas bucket, and the climbing into the truck, he pulled out a black, plastic Jerry can from where he had wedged it alongside the radios.

"Here ma'am, it won't do much for the uniform, but it'll help with your hands and face," he grinned, as he half-filled the bucket and passed it to Gill.

Gill took the bucket and passed it straight on to Julia, "You first Petty Officer," she instructed Julia.

"Yes, ma'am, thank you!" the grateful Yeoman said and cupping her hands splashed the water over her face, thanking all the powers that be that she had chosen to use waterproof eye make up this morning. Not that she wore much, that would have been against her inclinations and Dress Regulations, both, but still...

Gill followed suit and then with a grin called into the back of the vehicle, "No towel, Bom? You're slipping!"

"No need for one ma'am, in this heat you'll dry off pretty quickly, and then later when it gets hotter, you'll be soaked with sweat! Oh, reminds me!" He dived back into the stowage and produced four web belts, each wrapped around a water bottle. "We'll probably need these, ma'am. I filled 'em up before we left Tidworth. Can you show the Captain and the Petty Officer how to adjust 'em, please, ma'am? I need to net-in."

Gill turned to her task with a wry grin, showing the two visitors how to adjust the belts for comfort and fit, while at the same time becoming aware of the electronic hum and crackle know coming from the radios mounted in the Landrover.

"_Hello all stations, this is Zero. Tune antennae, out!_"

With a hurried, "Excuse me!" to Harm Gill hurried around to the antenna mount on the vehicle's wing, "OK, Bom, go ahead!" she called.

Johnny thumbed the pressel switch on the microphone while Gill checked the reading on the ATU dial, "OK Bom!" she called, giving him a thumbs up.

Hardly had she given the signal when the radio crackled into life again, "_Hello all stations, this is Zero, radio check, over!_"

Johnny quickly glanced at the Signal Instructions and waited for his turn to reply as the net came alive "_One, OK, over!_" started the sequence, and Johnny mentally counted off the various stations listed on the Signals Instructions until at last it was his turn to respond, "Seven Niner Alpha, OK, over!"

"These are comparatively short range VHF sets," Gill explained to Harm, "and what we've just heard is the start up for any net at the beginning of an exercise. Zero, is the controlling station and is just making sure that everybody that is supposed to be on net is in fact present and has their sets manned. We'll be hearing exactly the same with the Tech Net – that is the net used for transmitting fire orders – in a few minutes. We aren't officially on that net, so Bombardier Walker won't be replying. It's just that hearing that net, will make it all a little more interesting and a lot more educational for you. Well, I hope so, anyway!" she finished with a smile.

Harm nodded, "OK, I got that – I think. But what about what we can see?" he nodded towards the activity taking place in front of them.

Gill pursed her lips. "Well in front of us, nearest to us are three batteries of AS-Nineties, one five five millimetre, each battery has six guns, divided into three sections of two each. Each battery is controlled by a command post, that's the smaller tracked vehicles behind the guns, and all three batteries are commanded by the FDC – the Fire Direction Centre, which in turn is under the command of the Control station. There are two FDCs deployed at the moment, call signs one and two. Call sign one is right there, and if you look forward of the AS-Nineties, you can see two batteries of Light Guns, they're one oh five millimetre, each with its own CP and just back from them, is call sign two.

Harm had been trying to followed Gill's explanation, but one point was niggling at him, "Um... you keep talking about guns, but I don't see any?" he queried.

Gill looked at him in astonishment, "But... but... they're right there in front of us, the AS-Nineties, the Light Guns..."

"Oh..." understanding dawned on Harm, "I... uh... thought they were tanks! And... uh... I was looking for rifles and pistols... and even machine guns... And I was wondering how they fitted into an artillery demonstration..." he faltered to a stop, feeling somewhat embarrassed.

Gill would have laughed if she hadn't felt it would have been unkind, so she bit her tongue and tried to explain, "No, well, first off, they're not tanks, they're self-propelled guns – artillery pieces, and as for the nomenclature, well...it's all a bit of archaic usage, I suppose; tradition and that sort of thing... From the earliest days we've called artillery pieces guns... no... that's not exactly true... originally they were called 'Great Guns', while infantry weapons were originally called muskets, but over time, we in the Gunners came to refer to them all as small-arms, and officially that's what any weapon carried on the person is, from pistols right up to the Gimpy..."

"Gimpy?" Harm asked, even more baffled.

"Oh, sorry, the General Purpose Machine Gun..., it's a bit like your M-60..."

"Ah..." Harm nodded, "I think I understand, now."

"Anyway, once the Tech Net opens, you'll hear the FDCs refer to themselves as Zero, and Bombardier Walker will switch frequencies between the two FDCs so we can hear what's happening."

"Speaking of which, ma'am," Johnny interrupted her, "it's all about to kick off..."

"Thank you, Bom! Sir, if we go and sit up front, we can use the headsets and hear what's happening!"

"It's your turf," Harm replied with a smile, standing back to let her lead the way.

Johnny sat on one of the bench cushions he had acquired for the day, a headset clamped to one ear, leaving his other ear free so he could hear what was being said to him, while, after his encouragement, Julia had come right forward peering over the top of the sets and gaining a slightly restricted view of the action.

As she made herself as comfortable as possible, he suddenly grinned and passed her the headset.

Julia held it to her ear just in time to hear "_Grid, eight seven six, five four three, altitude, one two five, direction four eight five five. Soft skin vehicles in open! At my command! Adjust fire!"_

Julia looked questioningly at Johnny, who merely nodded his head and pointed forward. Julia turned to ,look over the top of the sets again as the radio burst into life once more. In the cab of the Landrover Harm turned to Gill and asked, "How can you tell who is talking to whom?"

Giull nodded, "A fair question. We are listening to the Tech net at the moment and that's the OP, I think their call sign wassa Two One, talking to the CP, Call sign One, with Zero listening in and logging the target information.

"Yeah but how do you know? All I can hear is one voice repeating what the other says." Harm objected.

"Well true enough, but there are a couple of conventions at work here, or rather rules of VP - Voice Procedure - First no-one, not even the CO is allowed on the net if there are fire orders being passed, and secondly, once comms between the OP and the CP or FDC have been established, then call signs are dropped for speed of transmission - that's why no-one else is allowed on the air. Oh, and there's an important difference between US and UK practice. In the US Army artillery observers are NCOs who can only request fire. In the RA our FOOs are officers and they order fire. Do you see the distinction?"

"Yeah, I think I do..." Harm conceded

"R_eady three two, over_!"

"_Ready, three two, out! - Cancel at my command!_"

One of the guns just off centre to the right of Julia, Gill and Harm's line of sight, rocked back on its tracks, as a strangely metallic explosion was heard and an almost perfect smoke circle was blown from its muzzle. Julia uttered a little squeak of surprise, broadening Johnny's smile, and even though he and Gill had been expecting the shot, both of them jumped a little in their seats, as did Harm.

"_Shot one, over_!"

"_Shot one, out!_"

There followed a short pause until the radio was heard again, "_Right one hundred, drop fifty, over!"_

"_Right one hundred, drop fifty, out!"_

Again the sound of a single round of gunfire was heard, and although Julia restrained her squeak this time around, she couldn't stop herself from jumping slightly, as the now becoming familiar voice sounded in her ear,

"_Shot one, three one, over_!"

"_Shot one, three one, out_!"

Again there was a pause, then "_Five rounds fire for effect, over!_"

"_Five rounds fire for effect, out_!"

The noise was much louder now, as the six guns in the centre of the gun line started firing, each gun firing five rounds as fast as it could, until thirty one hundred and fifty five millimetre shells were sent howling through the air to burst on the target some eleven thousand metres away, leaving the Gun Position wreathed in smoke.

Harm blinked at the flurry of activity just discernible to him, and turned to Gill, "OK, from the point of view of sturm und drang, that was pretty impressive, but what's the effect at the..."

"_End of mission, target destroyed estimate one five enemy vehicles burning. Good shooting, over!_"

"I think that answers your question, sir," Gill grinned.

"_End of mission, target destroyed, estimate one five enemy vehicles burning, out_!"

"Sounds pretty impressive," Harm conceded, "but how do we know that is an accurate BDA?"

"Well it should be!" Gill replied, "We are observers here on the Gun Line, but there are other observers up at the OP, who would be quick to report any fudging of the results."

"OK... can we get up..."

"We're scheduled for the OP this afternoon, sir. And then tomorrow morning we get to observe the danger close shoot – from the Bombard Shelter!" she added hastily as she saw a startled expression sweep across his face. "And if you like, I'll double down to the FDC, and see if Five Four's Adjutant will let us close enough so that you can observe the detachments in action. I can't promise that he will though!"

Harm nodded, "Yeah, I'd like to see that, if it can be done."

It was about twenty minutes before Gill returned to the vehicle, a smile on her face. "It took a bit of talking, but I got him to agree we could take the vehicle down to the FDC, and go forward on foot from there as far as the DROPs pallets. So... take us down to Five Four's FDC, please, Bom!"

"Yes, ma'am!"

Once at the FDC they were able to see more clearly what was happening as FDCV and guns interacted with each other and with the OP. Each Fire Mission that came through required a different mission envelope, and Gill was kept busy explaining the difference between linear and convergence shoots, and what a hundred per cent zone and fifty per cent zones were.

However while Harm and Gill lost themselves in an almost student and instructor role, Julia was not having fun. While appreciating the teamwork that went into conducting a shoot, she didn't much like the almost constant sound of gun-fire, and despite the ear defenders that Johnny loaned her, she could still hear all too clearly for her comfort, each round as it was fired.

Johnny was not unsympathetic, although his days as a gun number were long gone, he still volunteered to serve as an ammo number on live firing exercises to help make up the permanent shortfall in manpower and so was still sufficiently inured to the sound of gun-fire for it not to trouble him. Even so, he could appreciate the effect that the sound and shock weaves could have on the unitiated.

"Try to grin and bear it, for a while longer," he encouraged Julia, we're nearly at the end of the guns' serial, and then once lunch is over, we'll be heading up to the OP, where things are a lot quieter!"

Julia could only smile weakly in response, and silently pray that lunchtime would roll round quickly, while trying to make light of the way she felt, "Almost enough to put me off fireworks!" she said through her smile.

"Hey you can't say that!" Johnny protested through his own grin, "That would be un-American wouldn't it?"

"How so?" Julia demanded.

"Isn't there a line in the US national anthem about the rocket's red glare, or something like that?" he queried.

Julia just gaped at him blankly, totally taken by surprise, until she shook her head and giggled.

"That's better!" Johnny commended her; he'd been following the exercise schedule – or The Pink as it was known – pretty closely. "Anyway, there's only one more serial for the guns before lunch, and then it's time for some real fireworks. You might want to dismount to watch this." He smiled in real sympathy, "It's much quieter than the guns."

Julia hesitated, "Come on," he encouraged her, "It won't hurt!"

Julia managed a stronger version of her grin this time, even if it wasn't the full-blown smile he'd seen the evening before, "I bet you say that to all the girls!" she quipped.

Johnny laughed out loud, and extended a hand to lend her support as she dismounted from the vehicle, stretching her back and stamping her feet as she did so.

In the meantime Johnny had been watching for a dust plume along the track leading back to the School of Artillery, and grunted in satisfaction when he saw it. "Watch this," he recommended in keen anticipation.

Soon they could all see six squat, tracked vehicles moving at speed along the track until they were almost level with Gill's Landrover, when, as one, the six swung right, forming a line abreast and came to an abrupt halt, and then to the surprise of Harm and Julia, the back half of each vehicle seemed to split away from the main body and elevate and swivel. And within less than a minute each vehicle had started launch a ripple salvo of twelve rockets, which, although a quieter procedure than the firing of either the AS-Nineties or the Light Guns, was still loud enough to be heard clearly.

As soon as the launches were complete, the box-like missile racks swivelled and dropped into place, and with a roar of engines, the tracked the vehicles spun in their own length and roared off the gun position.

"Bom?" Gill asked.

"Ninety eight seconds, ma'am!" Johnny reported with fierce satisfaction. "I wish we'd had some of those in Basra!"

"That was the MLRS," Gill explained to Harm. "With extended range ammunition they can hit targets up to ninety kilometres away, and with the sub-munition warhead, they can … Bom, what was the nickname for the MLRS?"

"Grid square removal system, ma'am!" Johnny replied cheerfully.

"Yes, thank you! That's the reputation they have," she smiled at Harm, "You'll see that this afternoon!" Gill promised. Harm nodded. He had tried to remain impassive, but he could appreciate the teamwork involved by those at the OP, in the FDC and CPs and on the guns. And he had truly been impressed by the Multi Launch Rockets they had just witnessed, although he steadfastly refused to recognise that ground based artillery was in way superior to a strike delivered by a section of F-14s, or, as he supposed he must get used to thinking, F/A-18s.

His musing were interrupted when Johnny addressed Gill, "Ma'am, lunch here or at the OP?"

Gill looked at her watch, "No move before thirteen thirty, Bom, according to The Pink, so I'll just have a word with the FDC, and then we'll pull back to our original position along with the Zulu muster, we'll lunch there, and then move out on time!"


	7. Chapter 7

**7**

Johnny pulled on the handbrake and switched off the ignition once he had driven the Landrover back to where the other vehicles were gathered. He jumped out of the cab, stamped his feet and walked around to the rear of the vehicle, "Can I give you a hand ladies? I need the wagon bed."

Gill gave him an inquiring glance to which he replied, "You're... er... sat on lunch ma'am. It's in the stowage..."

"Oh..." Gill shuffled sideways along the bench seat and allowed Johnny to give her a hand to dismount.

"Julia?" he prompted the American Petty Officer, extending a hand to her. His use of her first name, however drew a curious look from his BK.

"Uh... yeah... sure..." Julia squirmed along the seat and again Johnny stretched out a supporting hand, but to Gill's suddenly inquisitive eye, it seemed that the contact between the two NCOs was held for a second or so longer than was strictly necessary.

Once the two women had dismounted Johnny unlocked and opened the under seat stowage, retrieving and handing out the the four brown paper bags containing the packed lunches.

Gill accepted hers with a grimace of resignation, while Harm and Julia opened theirs curiously.

Each bag contained two cling-wrapped sandwiches, an apple, a protein bar, a packet of chips – or crisps, as Julia was learning to call them in the UK – and a small box of fruit juice.

Gill opened her sandwich packet and peered at each in turn, "How are your sandwiches, sir?" she asked Harm, "I've got corned beef and pickle, and egg mayonnaise..." she let her voice trail off in an unspoken question.

"H'mm.." Harm too opened his packet, "Yeah, the same..." he sighed, "Oh well, it won't be the first time I've been on half rations!"

"Tell you what, sir," Johnny stuck his head out of the rear of the vehicle where he seemed to be fiddling with the radios. "I like corned beef, so I'll swap you my egg-mayo for your beef and pickle?"

Harm blinked, he'd had very little to do with Gill's driver and had said even less to him, but a gift horse was a gift horse, "Thank you, Corp... uh... Bombardier! That's very generous of you!" he remembered the difference in Artillery ranks at the last second.

"Not really, sir," Johnny grinned, "I'm not that keen on mayo, at any time!"

The sandwiches redistributed, Johnny dived back into the Landrover, only to reappear a couple of minutes later with a pair of steaming paper cups in his hand, "Tea up, ma'am!" he called to Gill.

"Thank you, Bom," Gill grinned, "Is it drinkable?" she teased him.

Johnny took it in good part, it was after all his carefully constructed and nurtured reputation that he couldn't make a potable hot drink to save his life. "I hope so, ma'am," he grinned, "I _am_ trying to impress somebody!"

Gill shook her head in mock despair, and walking around to the side of the vehicle she passed one passed one of the cups to a slightly bemused Harm, "Where did he..." he began.

"I didn't ask," Gill replied, "But knowing Bombardier Walker, he probably had a camping stove and kettle hidden in one of the storage bins!" she took a sip from her tea and placed her lunch bag on the flat wing of the vehicle.

Harm nodded approvingly, "Good initiative!" and took a sip of the steaming brown liquid in the cup, "God! What the hell...?"

Gill chuckled at the appalled expression on his face, "Oh, my fault! I forgot to warn you, army tea, isn't quite the same as ordinary tea!"

"No, I should say not!" Harm declared with feeling, as he took another, more cautious sip and then shook his head resignedly, "I just don't get you British at times. I mean, here you have a delicious oriental herbal infusion, and then you go and dump cow-juice in it! Uh... no offence..."

"None taken!" Gill agreed," but you're forgetting that the Central Asian tribes, like the Mongols, who acquired tea drinking from the Chinese, used to put butter in their tea! And this tea has been made with evaporated milk – I think you call it condensed milk, anyway it comes in cans..."

Harm shuddered, "OK, point taken, I'll drink my tea like a good little boy."

"Just as well," Gill agreed gravely, although her eyes were dancing, "There aren't any harbours around here for you to throw it in!"

Harm looked at Gill in surprise, it was hard to believe that less than twenty four hours ago, they were almost at each other's throats, and now, unless he was very much mistaken, she was poking fun at him!

Johnny looked after the departing officers in mock despair, "Come on Julia, if they haven't got the sense to get out of the sun, I have!" He led her to the other side of the vehicle and nodded to the thin patch of shade it provided. "It's not much, but at least it's out of the direct sun!"

Julia smiled appreciatively and thankfully lowered herself to the ground, her back against the side of the Landrover, "Pretty damn smart!" she observed with a grin, "but how come your officer never..."

"Ah, they're all the same!" Johnny observed philosophically, "Officers are clever, they've all got book smarts, all been to Sandhurst, or university... The trouble is, there ain't none of 'em got any common sense!" he finished heavily. Her took a bite of his corned beef sandwich, and grimaced, "God, I hate this stuff!" he muttered under his breath, but not quite quiet enough for Julia not to hear.

"I thought you said you liked beef and pickle?" she said, a puzzled frown on her face.

Johnny shrugged, "I lied. But I can eat it, but your Captain's a veggie, ain't he? So he can't. Anyway, I was telling you about officers," Johnny deflected the conversation away from dietary preferences, "There's an old saying in the Army, that the most dangerous animal in the world is a Second Lieutenant with a map and compass!"

Julia giggled, "But neither of them," she indicated the approximate position of Harm and Gill, "are Second Lieutenants."

"True," Johnny agreed and he appeared to consider the question as he looked at Julia, "But the BK was one at one time, and your bloke must have been your Navy's equivalent too!" he said eventually.

"Yeah..." Julia murmured, "Ensign Rabb... now, there's a thought!"

"Yeah! Second Lieutenant Shephard!" Johnny chuckled.

xxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx

Gill stuffed the wreckage of her lunch back into its brown paper bag and looked at her watch, "OK Bom, let's get packed up. Ready to move in five!"

"Yes, ma'am!" Johnny replied, jumping to his feet, and extending a hand to Julia.

Between them the two NCOs made short work of tidying the area and stowing away all the loose equipment in the vehicle. "All ready, ma'am!" Johnny reported, with more than a minute to spare.

Gill nodded in satisfaction, "OK, let's get this show on the road! Bom, we're due at OP Two Three, do you need a navigator?"

"No thanks, ma'am, I know two three, OK!" Johnny replied as he helped her and Julia into the back of the Landrover before closing and securing the tail-gate. He hurried around to the driver's side of the cab and climbed in behind the wheel, "All, OK, sir?" he asked Harm.

"Yeah, fine, thanks." Harm replied. He had been taken aback by the apparent casualness of the behaviour he had observed in the interactions between British officers and soldiers, and couldn't help but contrast it with the more rigid and more formal approach evinced by the USMC and to a slightly lesser extent by the US Navy. Certainly no driver of either service would have acted so casually around officers as this NCO did, not that Bombardier Walker showed any sign of disrespect, it was just that he seemed more relaxed, more human than a Marine Corporal would be. He had thought that the Brits would in fact be much more rigid in their approach,and could see that he not only needed to re-think his position, but perhaps also that he needed more information before he could make a valid judgement.

In the meantime, he gritted his teeth and made a grab for the vehicle's superstructure as it crawled, jolted and bounced its way along yet another deeply rutted and hard-baked track.

xxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx

Fortunately for Harm's teeth, after the track wound its way up a long ridge, Johnny was able to leave the track and cut across a stretch of short grass, almost lawn-like in its smoothness. Harm looked across at him and caught Johnny's grin of relief and saw the tension leave the younger man's upper body, and his hands relax on the wheel.

"A bit better, sir?" he said.

"Much, thanks." Harm replied, "Is it all like that?"

"Not quite all, sir. We're lucky with the weather this year, or so they say! We've had much less rain than usual, wouldn't surprise me if they come up with a hosepipe ban. But the thing is, during the winter it does get pretty wet, and tracked vehicles with their limbers can cut the ground up pretty badly, and the dry spell's made those ruts set like concrete. We're pretty high above the rest of the Plain, comparatively speaking, sir, and it's chalk under the grass, so what little rain we've had has just drained away without helping the ruts to collapse!"

Harm nodded, he hadn't understood every word that the British NCO had said, but he had gotten the general gist of his explanation, but, "So why do we have to drive in those ruts?" he asked.

"Believe it or not, sir, to minimise damage! If every vehicle took its own route across the Plain, then it wouldn't take long for the whole Plain to be covered with ruts! This isn't too bad up here. When the ranges aren't in use, the MOD rents the grassland out for sheep pasture – that's why the grass here is so short, but where sheep can't graze, the grass grows to about knee high, and that's not good for driving, so we'd have to stick to the tracks."

"And long grass is a bad thing, why exactly?"

"Well, sir, firstly, because the long grass hides old ruts and holes in the ground, and there are stories of more than one person having hit a hidden rut, and accidentally biting through their tongue, and secondly because the long grass can wind its way around vehicle prop and drive shafts, and REME tend to get a bit sarky when things like that happen!"

Harm nodded, and had yet another re-think about British Army NCOs, he couldn't think of many Corporals of his acquaintance who could have put cause and effect together so succinctly, but there were one or two things he needed clearing up, "REME?" he queried.

"Oh, sorry sir, Royal Electrical and Mechanical Engineers, our first line repair blokes. Each regiment has a REME Light Aid Detachment attached to it. Their job is to keep all our guns, vehicles and equipment working whenever we bend it. So they don't appreciate having to do an extra couple of hours, cutting tightly wound grass from vehicle chassis and running gear, just because some dumb bastard decides to take a short cut!"

"No... I don't expect they would." Harm agreed, "But wouldn't the driver get charged with dereliction, or something?"

Johnny shrugged, "Well he might, but more'n likely he'd just pick up a bunch of extra duties from his BSM, unless the EME was feeling particularly nasty and sent up an NM and D report, and then the poor sod would probably get a section sixty-nine charge, neglect to the prejudice, or possibly a twenty-nine B charge, negligently performing his duty!"

"So..." Harm the attorney asked, "driving offences aren't usually charged?"

"Oh, no, sir! Minor ones like getting grass wrapped around the prop shaft no, but an RTA always results in a section sixty-nine, negligently driving a vehicle, and that's an automatic CO's orders, as would be a drink driving charge, but that would be a section seventy, committing a civil offence, but that one would probably go direct to DCM, or possibly be dealt with by a Civilian Court, depending on whether the offence took place on MOD land or not!"

"RTA, DCM?" Harm queried baffled by the plethora of abbreviations.

"Oh, sorry, sir! RTA is road traffic accident, a collision between a vehicle and something else; another vehicle a cyclist, a pedestrian... a DCM is a District Court Martial, that means it can dish out heavier awards than the CO, but less than a General Court Martial can."

Harm nodded, this was just a peek into an ally's disciplinary system, but much more to his taste than watching artillery in action. While he had been impressed by the slick speed with which calls for fire were answered, he was still unsure what possible value the experience could have for him as the Force Judge Advocate.

He mused for a few moments more until Johnny said, "Nearly there, sir!" indicating a pair of vehicles up ahead.

xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx

Gill thankfully dismounted from the rear of the vehicle almost the second it drew to a halt, bitterly regretting her stubborn adherence to procedures that dictated the senior officer ride in the cab, and then sighed silently, there was just no getting around it, it had had to be done. It would have been far wiser if she had arranged for two vehicles and drivers for the two days, but there it was. There was no use crying over spilt milk. Spilt milk indeed! For once in her life, she could sympathise with Sylvia Sims in 'Ice Cold in Alex', and she was really looking forward to getting to the Mess Bar before dinner and downing a half-pint of cold shandy, and thank God for Bombardier Walker's sun screen! For once the Met boys had been right on target, the day was a scorcher, with not a cloud in the sky and even up here on one of the Plain's highest points, there was barely a breath of air.

She walked around to the front of the vehicle just as Harm dismounted' he acknowledged her with a smile and a nod, "So what happens now?" he asked.

"I'll just go and check in with the FOO and let him know we're here. Then we can spread a map out on the bonnet, and follow the fire orders. Here," she handed him a pair of field glasses, "we can see the impact area from here, so you'll be able to observe the effects of fire for yourself – just so you can be sure there's no fudging!"

Julia also dismounted, but despite her best efforts to put a smile on her face, she didn't convince Johnny at all. He thought she look not just discontented but a little sick. "Hey, you feelin' alright?" he asked in a concerned voice.

"Just a little nauseous, I guess..." Julia confessed, "Getting bounced around in the back of that thing on top of lunch must have been a little too much for me..."

"Yeah, OK. Right, come on..." Johnny had parked so that the afternoon sun would create a greater depth of shadow along one side of the vehicle, and snagging one of the bench cushions from the interior of the Landrover, he threw it down in the shade and said, "Come on, come and sit down."

Julia attempted a smile of gratitude, but it was a poor attempt and only increased Johnny's concern as he got her settled. "Just hang on in there for a minute or two and you'll be fine. I've got to go and get netted in again."

He disappeared from her sight, and Julia thankfully closed her eyes. She hadn't been car-sick for years, but being bounced around in the comfort-less back of the Landrover really had set her stomach churning, and she was heartily glad to get out into the fresh air and into the shade.

Johnny intercepted Gill as she returned from the OP, "Ma'am, the Petty Officer's feeling a bit car-sick, so unless you need me, I'll go and sit with her until she's feeling a bit better."

Gill frowned, "Does she need to go sick?"

"No I don't think so, ma'am." Johnny replied, "just some peace and quiet and a chance for her tummy to recover."

"Alright, Bom, but if she gets worse, I want to know immediately!"

"Yes, ma'am," Johnny replied soberly. "So if I run the headsets out to the cab, will that be OK for you and Captain Rabb?"

"Yes, that's fine, Bom, thanks. Get that done and then go and make sure that the Petty Officer is OK!"

"Yes, ma'am!" Johnny turned on his heel and clambered into the rear of the wagon, where he not only fed the headsets through to the cab, but also hauled the jerry can out from it's position wedged between the radio sets and the side of the vehicle.

Lugging it around to the patch of shade, he sat down between it and Julia, "How are you doing, bonny lass?" he asked softly.

Julia opened her eyes and mustered up a half-smile, "Feeling like I was half-dead and wishing I was all the way there!" she quipped.

Johnny nodded sympathetically, "Have you drunk anything since lunch?"

Julia shook her head, and immediately wished she hadn't, "No," she gulped.

"OK..." Johnny pulled his water bottle out of its holder on his belt, "Here take a mouthful or two of this..."

Julia took the bottle with a grateful smile and raised it to her lips, "Ooh..." she breathed as she took the first sip, "That's not water... that's cold coffee!" and then as the full taste hit her, "Damn strong coffee too!"

"Yep, Tim Walker's special brew!" Johnny grinned.

Julia took another, longer sip, "Not bad," she allowed, "almost Jarhead grade! But... who's Tim Walker, your dad, your brother?"

"Nope that would be me!" Johnny grinned and sat back. His shoulders resting against the side of the Landrover.

"I thought your name was John?" Julia said her forehead creased in a frown.

"Nope, Johnny's my nickname!" Johnny said.

"OK... nicknames I can understand, in theory, but why call you Johnny?"

"It's inevitable. It's one of those traditional Army nicknames, like anyone with a surname of James is almost always called Jesse – after the American outlaw, same as anyone called Rhodes or Miller is always known as Dusty, or someone with the name of White is usually known as Chalky..."

"Yeah, OK... but why 'Johnny Walker'? Julia persisted.

"After a famous brand of Scotch Whisky!" Johnny finally admitted.

Julia chuckled, "Is that all? The amount of digging I had to do, anyone would think its was some dark and shameful secret!"

"Nah..." Johnny grinned, "It's just that I hate the damned stuff!"

"Johnny Walker, or all whisky?" Julia asked.

"All whisky!" Johnny declared emphatically!

Julia giggled.

xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxx

Gill rejoined Harm at the front of the Landrover, "Your Petty Officer's feeling a bit car-sick," she told Harm, "No, it's alright, Bombardier Walker's got it in hand, he's looking after her. If there's anything serious he'll let us know. But from my own experience, all she really wants is to be left in peace and quiet to recover."

Harm groaned, he had been about to hurry around the the vehicle to check on Martinez, but at Gill's words he relaxed slightly. "I've just been waiting for the other shoe to drop," he admitted.

"Sir?" Gill was puzzled.

"Well, it's been one thing after another recently, there was an incident at work, and then my driver broke her ankle playing volleyball! Damn volleyball, would you believe?" his head shake was witness to his own difficulty in accepting that fact, "and now you tell me Martinez is sick. Hell, if she gets car-sick, I'm glad she's not my full-time driver!"

"She's not your driver, sir?" a surprised Gill asked.

"No, she's a Yeoman, my personal admin assistant! And a damned good one too!"

"So how come she's driving you?" Gill asked curiously.

"Because she volunteered. She's one of the few people in my command that are cleared to drive in the UK, and she even went out and got a British driver's licence on her own initiative! But if she's going to get car sick at every little bump in the road..."

"In fairness to her, sir, I wasn't far off feeling a bit sick myself by the time we got here. It's not just the bumps in the road, but in this weather its pretty damn hot under that canvas tilt, and not having a fixed point to stare at doesn't help!" Gill defended the other woman. And it was true, it had been hot and claustrophobic in the back of the vehicle and the smell of hot canvas hadn't been particularly pleasant either.

"H'mm... alright... I haven't experienced it, so I suppose I should withhold judgement. I'll wait and see how she is tomorrow!"

The crackle of the radio as the net came to life for the afternoon's shooting had Gill snatching her headset up off the Landrover's front seat and pressing it to her ear as she fumbled it into place over her beret.

Harm clamped his own headset to his ears as Gill motioned for him to do so, just in time to hear. "..._this is two one, fire mission battery over_!"

"_One, fire mission battery out!_"

"_Grid nine eight seven six five four, altitude one two zero, direction four four three eight, over_!"

"_Grid nine eight seven six five four, altitude one two zero, direction four four three eight, out_!"

"_Mixed enemy APCs and tanks, estimate company strength, over_!"

"_Mixed enemy APCs and tanks, estimate company strength, out!"_

Gill had an unfolded map spread out on the bonnet of the Landrover and was following the Grid Reference with a pencil, making a small cross on the appropriate spot on the map.

Harm raised an eyebrow.

"Just wait a few seconds," she said quietly, and then the net sprung to life again.

"_One ready, three five, over_!"

"_One ready, three five, out_!"

"That means the time of flight of the adjusting round will be thirty five seconds," Gill told Harm.

"_At my command, adjust fire, over_!" came the voice of the OP's signaller

"_At my command, adjust fire, out_!" replied the CP.

"That's the OP telling the CP that the guns are not to fire until the OP gives them permission."

"Why would he do that?" Harm asked.

"Oh... he might be preparing to fire on a moving target and have sent the Grid Reference for a point in front of an advancing enemy, or behind a retreating one, or he might be giving friendly troops time to get out of the way, or to take cover. That's why the OP needs to know the time that the shell is in flight." Gill explained.

The radio hummed into life again, as the OP came back on the air.

"_Cancel at my command, over_!"

"_Cancel at my command out_!"

"_One, Shot one, over_!"

"_Shot one, out_!"

That's the CP telling the Op that they have fired an adjusting round from number one gun," Gill grinned, and looked down at her watch, "OK, from where we are, look half left, about three thousand metres, do you see some little black specks, just below the skyline?"

Harm nodded.

"OK, when I give the word, bring your binos to bear on them, and you should see the splash. Wait... wait... wait..." Gill carried on looking at her watch, "Now!"

Harm brought his binoculars up to his eyes and the little black specks leaped into his vision as a motley collection of battered looking vehicles. He had barely had time to visually acquire the target before a plume of grey earth and smoke jetted up from the ground a little in front of them.

"_Up two hundred, ove_r!"

"_Up two hundred out_!"

Gill winced, "That's going to cost someone a heavy round in the Mess!"

"A heavy round?" Harm queried.

"Yes, that was a bloody bad opening call. It was OK for line, but distance was way out! A two hundred metre error was acceptable back in the eighties, but now OPs have portable laser range finders and all sorts of electronic gizmos, there really is no excuse for the adjusting round to be so far off target!"

"That still doesn't explain the heavy round!" Harm complained.

"Oh, sorry. That's me taking it for granted you know what all our little peculiarities are! The OP officer will be spoken to by his BC and CO, of that you can be certain, but the other officers will all claim a drink off him in the mess for being such an idiot!"

"And how many officers would that be?" Harm asked.

"Somewhere in the region of thirty, depending on who is in the Mess bar when he next walks in there," Gill grinned, but if she was going to say more she was cut off by the CP's signaller.

"_One, shot one, three six, over_!"

"_One, shot one, three six, out_!"

Once again Gill checked her watch until at thirty seconds, she snapped, "Now!" and raised her glasses to her eyes.

Harm swiftly followed suit, and knowing now where exactly to look he focused on the distant vehicles and soon saw the explosion, or 'splash' of the shell as it landed. Almost immediately the OP's voice cracked in his ear.

"_Five rounds fire for effect, Intense, over_!"

"_Five rounds fire for effect, Intense, out_!"

Gill nodded in confirmation, "Yep, that was a target round, so over the next minute, six guns – that is one battery – will fire five rounds of ammunition each."

"Over a minute?" Harm asked.

"Well just under, the intense rate of fire for an AS Ninety is six rounds a minute, and that was what was called for.

"You have variable rates?"

Yep, three rates of fire; burst and sustained are the other two. Intense rate falls between the two, and can only be kept up for three minutes. Burst rate is three rounds in ten seconds, but obviously that rate can't be kept up, it's too wearing on the detachments, the shells weigh ninety six pounds each, and too wearing on the gun barrels. Sustained rates are two rounds every minute, and can be maintained, or sustained, I should say for an hour. Heads up!"

Both officers whipped their glasses to their eyes just as the first splash hit right in the centre of the target vehicles. Within seconds five more explosions evinced the arrival of the rest of the first salvo, and hardly had the dust started to settle when the second salvo arrived. And so it continued for just under a minute as the vehicles were shrouded in smoke and dust through which Harm was certain he saw the occasional orange flash as a shell exploded, and although he was three kilometres distant from the target, he was almost prepared to swear he could feel the ground vibrate beneath his booted feet.

"_Two one, end of mission! Enemy retreating, estimate one two vehicles burning, over_!"

"_One, end of mission! Enemy retreating, estimate one two vehicles burning, out_!

"So, is it a fudged BDA?" Gill asked with a smile.

"No, no it's not!" Harm agreed having counted twelve burning vehicles in the impact area, "But what would have happened, if a live enemy had continued to advance?"

"The OP would have adjusted the target information and repeated the mission," Gill told him, and then couldn't resist a little dig, "That's one of the advantages of artillery over air strikes. All our fire is observed fire, and if need be we can call an immediate repeat, whereas once the fly-boys have dropped their bombs they're pretty much helpless to do anything else if the bad guys keep on a-coming!" she finished cheerfully.

Harm winced, not so much as the judgement Gill had made, but at her unwitting use of Mac's old nickname for him.

Gill saw the fleeting cloud that passed over his face, and realised that somewhere along the line she had made a gaffe, and in an effort to divert him, she suggested, "Why don't you take the map, and plot the next grid reference?"

Recognising, and grateful for, her attempt to divert his attention, Harm nodded, "Yeah, it will at least grant me the delusion that I'm doing something useful!"

Gill blushed, "Oh, I'm sorry, sir... I didn't mean to sound patronising... I mean, I know you must have made useful contributions in the past and... and..."

Harm shook his head, "Don't worry about it Captain. I'm the first to admit, or even confess, that this is your turf, and I am a total fish out of water."

"No... it's just that I meant that artillery do have that advantage, but only when we can observe fire, but there are times and places, where that's not possible. The MLRS has a range of ninety kilometres. Well, the Gunners would be highly unlikely to have OPs that deep behind enemy lines, and we would have to rely on aerial recce to be able to target anything that deep in in enemy territory."

"Not just trying to salvage my wounded pride there, are we Captain?" Harm asked with a grin.

"No, of course not, sir!" Gill hotly denied the accusation, but then looked at him shrewdly for a moment or two before she added, "And if I were to be so insubordinate to mention it, I would have to say that you aren't exhibiting any signs of wounded pride, but rather a distinct inclination to wind me up!"

"Ah, well," Harm grinned even more broadly, "You know what they say, pay-back's a... uh... pay-back is hell!"

That was one Americanism that had safely made the journey across the pond, so Gill wasn't left entirely disarmed. "Ah... ain't that bitch!" she sighed mournfully.

Harm shot her a startled glance and saw the mischief in her eyes and couldn't help joining in her laughter as she started to chuckle.

"Touché," he conceded and then, "Truce?"

"Pax!" she agreed.

The rest of the afternoon passed without incident to mar their amity, Harm proved to be a quick student, although unfamiliar with the metric scale maps used by ground forces, and his ear, already used to radio communication quickly became attuned to the voices of the British soldiers to whom he was listening, although the intricacies of artillery fire orders still remained pretty much a mystery to him.

Throughout the afternoon Gill had been monitoring the progress of each serial on the Exercise Pink, until at nearly sixteen thirty hours she noted that the next mission was to be a repeat performance by the MLRS Battery, but this time they would be using rockets armed with multiple sub-munitions. Knowing of Walker's fascination with this weapon system, she doffed her headset and hurried around the front of the vehicle to remind him that the MLRS fire mission was about to take place.

However, as soon as she rounded the the front of the Landrover, she stopped, took a step back and bit on her knuckles.

Harm saw her strange, to him, reaction, and said "Everything alright, Captain?"

"Oh yes, sir!" Gill said fighting a fit of the giggles, "But come and have a look, but quietly!"

Harm stepped across to join Gill and looked where she was indicating. A broad grin creased his face until he saw the open water bottle on the ground between the Bombardier and the Petty officer.

Julia had fallen asleep and had slid sideways until her head was resting against Johnny's shoulder, and he too had dozed off and his head had drooped sideways so that his cheek was resting on the top of Julia's head.

"They're not drunk, are they?" Harm demanded ominously.

"I very much doubt it, sir!" Gill shot at him with a dismayed look. The picture that the two NCOs formed was so funny and so innocent that Gill hadn't thought that the American officer could take exception to it. She stole forward a couple of steps and silently retrieved the bottle and lifting it to her nose, she inhaled and promptly screwed her nose up in disgust.

"Oh, God, that's awful! Here,sir, take a whiff of that!"

With a face like a thundercloud, Harm took the offered bottle and took a deep sniff of its contents. The scowl left his face to be replaced with a bemused expression, "It... it... it smells... like coffee!"

"Yes," Gill grinned, "Bombardier Walker's absolutely undrinkable special brew coffee!" then she took a step forward again and bent down to shake her NCO's shoulder, "Wakey, wakey, Bom!" she said cheerfully.

Johnny shot awake on the instant. "Uh.. ma'am! Sorry, ma'am. I must have dozed off. No excuse ma'am!"

The urgency in Johnny's voice got through to Julia and she too awoke, only to blush crimson as she realised where her head was resting. She scrambled to her feet, "Sir! Sorry sir! It won't..."

"Happen again?" Harm asked resignedly, "Have you been talking to Legalman One Coates again?"

"Sir?" an obviously confused Petty officer asked.

"Oh, never mind," Harm sighed, "How are you feeling now?"

"Uh... much better, thank you,sir!" Julia replied, now having collected sufficient wits to stand at attention in a rigid brace.

"Stand easy, at ease!" Harm told her, "You're not in trouble. In fact I almost wish I'd had enough wits to take a siesta too!" He winked at Gill with the eye that was hidden from Julia as he turned his head.

"Anyway, we woke you up," Gill contributed, "because the powers that be have arranged a special treat or you this afternoon, Bom. Next serial up is a sub-munition shoot by the MLRS battery!"

"Right ma'am!" Johnny grinned, "Jul... uh... Petty Officer, you really do not want to miss this!"

Julia nodded numbly and followed him around to the front of the vehicle, leaving a grinning Gill and a bemused Harm staring after them.

"How old is he?" Harm asked Gill.

"Well, his Q and R card says he's a couple of years short of thirty, but given his current behaviour, I'd say he was about twelve, and it's coming up to his birthday!" She responded with a laugh.

"You may not be far off the mark there!" Harm agreed.

The two smiling officers walked around to the front of the vehicle to find that Walker had perched Martinez, or had persuaded her to perch, on the spare wheel that occupied most the Landrover's bonnet, while he was turned sideways to it scanning the skies to the south.

"Ah! Here they come!" he said with immense satisfaction. The other three turned their heads to watch a swiftly rushing curtain of smoke trails, brilliantly white against the blue sky, arch overhead and just before they hit the ground explode into balls of smoke, and then almost instantaneously the ground beneath them erupted in a mass of small explosions.

This time Harm could definitely feel the ground vibrate below his feet, and he grinned at Walker's sigh of satisfaction, "Damn, I just love seeing those little beauties in action!" he said with a happy grin on his face.

"Very effective," Harm agreed as he used his binoculars to examine what was left of the targets on the impact area, "but those smoke trails are a hell of a signature."

"They are," Gill agreed, that's why they always employ shoot and scoot tactics, like this morning, if you'll recall. They were in action, acquired and engaged their target and were out of action in what, just over ninety seconds, Bom?"

"Just about, ma'am, just about!" Johnny agreed happily.

"And, that was End-ex, I just heard being broadcast," Gill said nodding to one of the headsets, so it looks like we're coming out of action too."

Johnny nodded, "The School Officers' Mess, ma'am?"

"Yes please, Bom!"

As they began to mount, Harm stopped his Yeoman from climbing into the rear of the Landrover. "You'll sit up front Martinez, I don't want you getting sick again!"

"But, sir..." she began to protest.

"No arguments Yeoman, that's an order!" he cut her off.

With no alternatives open Julia could only submit to his authority, "Aye, aye, sir!" Julia said and turned towards the cab of the vehicle.

Gill looked at Harm and grinned, but in answer to his challenging "What?" she just kept grinning and shook her head.


	8. Chapter 8

**8**

Bombardier Walker gently braked to a stop and regarded the scene ahead of him with cynical amusement, "They've got RPs doing traffic control, ma'am." he called back over his shoulder to Gill, "and they're making a right pig's ear of it!" he added in an undertone for Julia's benefit.

There was some justification for his amusement. The gravelled drive in front of the Officers' Mess was grid-locked by staff cars, jeeps and Landrovers of a dozen different NATO allies, the drivers of most having no, or very little grasp of English, and the perspiring Provost Bombardier and his half-dozen Gunners were just about ready to tear their hair out from sheer frustration at the drivers' collective inability to follow instructions.

Gill craned forward and peered over the top of the radio sets. The Landrover was about twenty yards short of the main entrance and it was, she decided, going to be much quicker to walk the last sixty or so feet than to wait while the motley assemblage ahead shook themselves down into some sort of order. "Do you fancy a stroll, sir?" she asked Harm, "It's only a few yards, and it'll be quicker..."

"I am at your disposal!" he told her gravely, but she thought she caught a flash of amusement in his eyes.

"Very well, sir. I say we walk! Pull over Bom!"

"Yes, ma'am!" Johnny steered the vehicle to the edge of the gravelled drive and stopped. Gill scrambled out of the back of the vehicle while Harm carefully unhooked their suit bags from the superstructure and their overnight kit from where Johnny had wedged it between the radios and the side of the vehicle.

"Stay put," Johnny told Julia as he too dismounted and made his way to the back of the vehicle, "I'll take your kit, ma'am!" he said to Gill, "That is if you don't mind carrying your own gear, sir?" he added for Harm's benefit.

"No, you carry on Bombardier, I think I can manage this!" Harm smiled, as he looked around at his surroundings. The Mess was a mellow, red brick, three storey, slate roofed building, in the Georgian style with casemate windows on the ground floor and sash windows on the second and third storeys. Five shallow stone steps led up to a neo-classical pillared marble portico with a balcony above it, and which was flanked by a pair of 25-pounder field guns, of World War Two vintage, their gloss paint highly polished and their breech blocks and muzzle brakes chromed. Similar attention had been paid to the various gun stores: picks, shovels, drag ropes, et cetera, which were highly polished, burnished or whitened as their various natures dictated. Harm had a shrewd idea of how minor offenders were kept busy during their term of punishment

"Yes, sir!" Johnny replied and hefting Gill's baggage he waited for her to take the lead.

He was relieved of his load at the main doors by a member of the mess staff, who then stood politely to one side as Gill gave her driver his instructions, "Pick up at zero seven thirty, please Bom, then straight to the Bombard Shelter. No need for packed lunches, with any luck we'll be back at Tidworth for lunch..."

"And if we're not ma'am?" Not that Johnny was too bothered, he often went for a run instead of lunch, but he couldn't miss the chance of gently teasing his officer.

Gill knew exactly what he was doing, however and with admirable sang-froid, she smiled, "If we're too late for lunch, Bom, then I'll let you buy me a sandwich at that awful greasy spoon in the village!"

Realising that he just been hoist by his own petard, Johnny could only grin, shrug his shoulders and say "OK, ma'am. Love – fifteen!"

Gill nodded, "Good! Oh, and Bom, make sure that the Petty Officer is OK, if she needs to see the MO, then make sure she goes sick!"

"Will do ma'am," he replied soberly, "but we're both pretty sure it was a combination of car-sickness and maybe made a little worse by the heat, she recovered soon enough once I got her into the fresh air and into the shade!"

"Yes... she did, didn't she...?" Gill smiled, and then lowered the boom, "Of course it might have had something to do with the fact that she seemed to find your shoulder a comfortable substitute for a pillow!"

"Ma'am! Yes, ma'am!" Johnny said, incapable of further speech for a moment as the blood rushed to his cheeks. He took refuge in the only way he could by slamming to attention and then bringing his hand up in a tautly quivering salute that would have the RSM nodding in approbation. "Good afternoon, ma'am!" he said bringing his hand back down to his side.

Gill, perforce had to return his salute, and once she had, Johnny muttered a further, stiff, "Ma'am!" before about turning and heading for the Landrover with a definite scowl on his face.

Gill on the other hand, watched him go, a beatific smile on her face, "Oh that feels so good..." she sighed.

"What does?" Harm asked. He had been an interested observer of the conversation between Captain and Bombardier.

"Getting the verbal better of Bombardier Walker," Gill confessed. "Yes, I know it was wicked of me to tease him like that, but I so rarely get a chance to beat him at his own game!"

Johnny stalked back towards the Landrover silently fuming. Damned officers! He was still annoyed as he climbed back behind the wheel and slammed the Landrover's door shut.

Julia looked at him in surprise, "What's up?" she asked.

"Who said anything was up?" Johnny demanded, making a major effort to control both his voice and his temper. It wasn't Julia's fault that Captain Shephard had wound him up, so he wouldn't take his temper out on the Petty Officer.

"Well, nobody ain't said nothin'" Julia quipped, broadening her accent into a parody of a West Virginia drawl, "but you was OK when you left here, but now you've come a-harin' back like you had gotten a bug up your ass!"

Johnny drew a breath to answer her, if there was one thing he didn't need was some smart mouth Yank telling him how to behave, but he closed his mouth without speaking and twisting in his seat he looked consideringly at Julia. She was right, Captain Shephard had only commented on finding the two NCOs dozing in the shade; OK, so she had been a little bit unfair teasing him about it, but he had completely overreacted, and now that he'd taken a couple of seconds to actually think, it hadn't been so bad. She could, if she'd felt like it, cut up really rough, and he supposed that Captain Rabb could have been pretty unpleasant about it too.

"Nah, nothing's really the matter," he grinned at Julia, "Just me being more than ordinarily thin-skinned. You'd think that with my years in the mob, I'd have learned not to let what officers say bother me! But there you are!" He turned back to face front and turned the key in the ignition, selected first gear and pulled away from the Mess, carefully negotiating the snarl of vehicles in front of him, and with a casual wave to the unhappy looking Regimental Police who were still trying to untangle the vehicular snarl-up drove slowly along the gravel drive until he came to the exit and turned onto the tarmac.

Once clear of the Garrison and heading back towards Tidworth along the Droveway, Johnny turned to Julia and asked, "What would you like to do this evening?"

"Oh... I don't know that I want to do anything..." Julia replied.

"Oh." For a moment or two Johnny was silenced, but then, mentally girding his loins, continued, "Well, I was thinking that you wouldn't want to stay in your room on your own all evening, no TV, no nothing... and then you've only had a packed lunch, and..." he checked his watch, "We won't make it back before the cook-house closes... so I was wondering, if maybe you'd like to go out for dinner?"

Julia was taken aback, yeah, Johnny was kind of attractive, he was pleasant, polite, funny, and he had taken good care of her today... but she hadn't expected this... whatever this was, "Do you mean, like out on a date?" she asked cautiously.

"Well, yeah, kind of," Johnny replied.

"Oh," Julia replied, asking herself why she had ever thought the British were reserved and cautious. "Um... yeah, OK. Yeah, I'd like that!" she answered.

"OK, I'll drop you off at the female barracks, then I have to put this thing to bed, so if I was to pick you up at about eight, can you be ready?"

"Eight o'clock is good for me," Julia agreed with a smile.

Johnny just smiled and concentrated on his driving.

xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx

Gill was just about to shrug into her Mess Dress Jacket when the knock came at her door, checking her watch,. She smiled, Harm – Captain Rabb, rather – had told her that his besetting sin was unpunctuality, yet here he was, not just right on the button, but a couple of minutes early.

A couple of minutes early he might be, but he was also, for the moment lost for words, Gill's Mess Dress consisted of a full-length, long sleeved, dark blue taffeta dress, with a high round neckline and a sewn-in scarlet sash. Seeing the jacket in her hand, he smiled and said, "Allow me?" and helped her into it. It matched the blue of the dress in colour and had scarlet, notched lapels to match the sash. Her hair was worn in a French plait, a more elaborate dressing than the bun she had worn it in ever since he had met her.

For her part, Gill was pleasantly surprised at Harm's appearance. She had guessed that as he was Navy his Mess dress would be a dark blue, very similar to that worn by the RA Male officers. But she hadn't reckoned on the US Navy having a Summer White Mess Dress Jacket in addition the Blue Winter Mess Dress. He wore his four rings marking him as a Captain on navy blue shoulder boards, his gold wings and medals, of course, and the chain closing on his jacket, a bum-freezer style like her own, revealed his shirt front and gold cummerbund.

Both became aware at almost the same instant, that the other was giving them an appreciative visual inspection. Gill blushed slightly and lowered her eyes, while Harm cleared his throat, and said, "If you are ready, Captain, it would afford me great pleasure to escort you down to dinner."

"Thank you, Captain. Yes, I would like that.

xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx

"Hi there," Julia smiled as she left the female accommodation, "Right on time – for around eight!" she grinned.

Johnny smiled back, "Well, I didn't want to appear too eager, but I didn't want to be late either, so the only option left was to be on time!"

"OK, Mister Smart Guy," Julia chuckled, "where are we going to eat round here at this time of night? Didn't you say last night that the NAAFI Bar only serves chips and nuts, oh, I mean crisps and nuts," she corrected herself.

"I did, and I do know what you meant, but Lord, how you people have slaughtered the language..." he paused to observe while Julia drew a deep breath before she replied, but Johnny had been waiting and sprung his trap with impeccable timing, "That is, the _English_ language," he grinned.

"Ouch!" Julia said, "OK... you got me! But where are we going to eat?"

"There's a pub, The George, at Thruxton, that does good meals and serves a decent pint, it's about a ten minute drive... if that's alright with you?"

"Sounds good to me, but how do we get there?"

"In my car," he said in a surprised tone.

"Oh..." Julia looked even more doubtful, "What about drink driving?"

Johnny shook his head, "I don't," he said simply, "If I'm driving. I'm quite happy with a couple of pints of lemonade and soda water. Besides, tonight isn't about drinking, it's about having dinner and a quiet chat..." he ended hopefully.

"OK, I can live with that," Julia smiled.

"Good, and now Miss Martinez, your carriage awaits!"

xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx

Gill and Harm walked into the ante-room, her hand resting lightly on his arm and a smile on her face as she listened to what seemed to her an improbably far-fetched story which he protested with a wounded expression on his face, was the absolute truth, "So... after it was all over, I asked her if she'd learned that trick at the Combat Development Centre at Quantico. She just smiled, and said nope, she'd seen it used in a movie once! I swear those few words nearly succeeded where the mine had failed!"

"If all that is true..."

"It is! I swear on a six foot stack of bibles!"

"If it is true," Gill continued in severe tones, "Then it sounds as if your partner and you saved each other's lives more than once!"

"Yeah... well, we had our moments..." Harm grinned as he steered her through the gathering crowd in the direction of the bar.

"So where is she now?" Gill asked casually.

"Uh... she got orders to take over a new command in San Diego – that's in Southern California – at the same time I got my orders to take over as Navy FJA Europe."

"But you said you were partners for what, nine years? It must have been difficult being posted so far away from each other..."

"Yeah, yeah, it was." Harm's voice suddenly became flat, and Gill could almost see the barricades going up. Realising that she had trespassed onto sacred ground, Gill swiftly changed the subject, allowing Harm time to recover his equilibrium, "So, just a few pointers about tonight. This is a much more formal affair than last night's mess dinner. But the main point to remember is that no-one, no-one is allowed to leave the table, for any reason at all, until the guest of honour does. He will be sitting next to the School Commandant, a Brigadier, at the centre of the cross table."

Harm quirked an eyebrow, "Not even to go to the bathroom?"

"Especially not that! So, limit your pre-dinner drinks to one short, and watch your wine intake at dinner. I know we both said we'd kill for a long cold drink, but if you take my advice, you'll not have it!"

Harm half suspected that he was being made the butt of some typically British humour but a look into Gill's eyes convinced him that she wasn't trying to set him up for a fall.

"Thank you," he acknowledged her advice with a smile. "What's the penalty for leaving the table?"

"Probably a lengthy spell in the Tower!" Gill chuckled, and then seeing his puzzled expression, "Sorry, 'The Tower' is always the Tower of London, where they used lock up state prisoners. You know, the Princes in the Tower or Anne Boleyn?"

"Didn't they all come to a sticky end?"

"Yes, the Princes in the Tower just vanished, murdered by their uncle, Richard III, according to Shakespeare, and Anne Boleyn was beheaded on a charge of High Treason."

"And I get that just for taking a bathroom break?"

"Probably not," Gill admitted, but your Naval Attached would probably receive a letter of complaint!"

"Ouch! I think I'd rather go to The Tower!" Harm said with a grin.

"Anyway, now that I've briefed you, I'm sure it won't be an issue!" Gill smiled back, and as they at last managed to find an opening in the press around the bar, Gill caught the barman's eye, "A vodka tonic ice and a slice, please," and turned to Harm, "Captain?"

"Oh, a single malt whisky, for me, please," Harm said.

Gill nodded confirmation to the barman and said to him, "Captain Gill Shephard, Three Eight Regiment, please."

"Yes, ma'am!" the white shirted barman replied, serving the drinks and making a note in the bar chit book.

"What was all that about? With the regiment?"

"Oh... that's so the drinks can be added to mess bill from here when they send it on to the regiment."

Harm frowned, "And what about the dinner? And the wine, and everything else?"

Gill sighed, "Yes that all goes on my mess bill too."

"So... looking after me is proving to be quite expensive?" Harm queried a frown lining his forehead.

"Not in the long run... Once I've paid the bill and got a receipt for it, then I can claim your expenses back through the Imprest account, and have it credited to my bank account."

"But in the meantime, you have to bear the cost, right?"

"Yes... but it's one of the ways the army has to make you pay your bills on time. The sooner you pay the bill the sooner you get your receipt and the sooner you can claim!"

Harm shook his head, "I don't like it, I don't like the idea I'm beholden to a junior officer, and a lady at that!"

Gill very nearly pouted at that. "Look, sir, I don't object to you being put out because I'm junior to you, but I am less than thrilled that you object to me paying for you just because I'm a woman! This is the twenty-first century now, and I do believe we even have the right to vote these days!"

Harm stepped back, an amused gleam in his eye and an apology in his mouth, "Yeah, that was dumb of me... but early conditioning is difficult to cast off, and despite all the politically correct rhetoric which our servicemen are force-fed, I can't help but feel that ladies should be treated in a different manner to men. It's a little hard to explain, and while I have some highly valued female friends flying combat aircraft, and I value their skills at least as highly as I do those of their male counterparts, there is still a difference. We – that is my squadron – have lost planes with their pilots and RIOs over the years, some due to accidents, some due to enemy action. It's a risk we all take every time we're fired off a carrier. When an aircraft goes missing, there's sadness in the squadron, but when that aircraft has a female pilot or RIO on board, or worse, both are female, then that sadness is deeper and longer lasting, even amongst the hot-shot jet jockeys who like to pretend that there is no difference between them and the ladies." Harm shrugged, and concluded, "if that makes me a dinosaur, just call me Barney!"

"No, I don't think that makes you a dinosaur," Gill said, inexplicably touched by a hint of sadness in his voice, and unconsciously laying a hand on his arm, "I think that makes you a caring, compassionate man." Realisation flooded over her as soon as she'd said those words and she drew herself up, almost into the position of attention, "Sir!" she gasped, "I'm so sorry! I had no right to say those things! I overstepped the mark, and I am sorry, sir!"

"No apologies needed, Captain!" Harm hastened to reassure her, "It's a refreshing change from what Trouble and Strife call me!"

"Trouble and Strife, sir?" Gill asked, intrigued despite her embarrassment. As far as she knew 'trouble and strife' was rhyming slang for 'wife'.

"Yes, two of my junior attorneys, I think they're half in love with each other and also in denial about that, but they're also highly competitive, and at times let their sense of competition get the better of them. The fact that they've both got hot tempers doesn't help either!"

Gill nearly choked on her drink, "I... ah... take it that they are of two different genders?"

"Lord yes!" Harm exploded. "We may have a don't ask, don't tell policy, but we're not quite so liberated as to tolerate openly gay or lesbian relationships!"

"No... I don't supposed you are..." Gill murmured. She took a hold of herself and said, "We might want to continue this conversation at a later date, but I think we might profit ourselves by having a look at the seating plan?"

Casting an eye around at he rapidly growing number of officers crowding into the ante room and bar Harm silently agreed with her. He estimated there were now upwards of three hundred officers in the two rooms. "Lay on MacDuff!" he conceded and as Gill started to move towards the lectern at the entrance to the dining room, he unconsciously laid his hand on the small of her back as if to guide her through the throng of Mess Dress and Service Dress uniforms from at least half a dozen different countries, The prevalent uniform however was that of the Navy Blue and Scarlet of the Royal Artillery, the male of officers of which he noted with a half smile wore spurs screwed into the heels of their boots. Gill felt the pressure of his hand and although she knew she ought to have taken exception to his action, she found it oddly comforting and comfortable.

It took them a few minutes to locate their names on the seating plan, which resembled a capital E with its open ends facing the dining room doors, and fortunately for Harm and Gill they found themselves positioned on the outer side of what would be the upper horizontal stroke of the 'E'

Gill raised her eyebrows at the sight of the name of the guest of honour and whispered in a slightly ironic manner, "We are among the mighty tonight!"

"How so?" Harm asked.

Gill indicated the name to the right of the name of the Commandant of the Royal School of Artillery, "Look, General Sir Alexander Harley, KBE, CB," she said with a slight quiver of irreverent laughter. "He's the Master Gunner Saint James' Park, the ceremonial head of the Royal Regiment, and our direct link to our Captain General, the Queen. Who knows, he might have been having lunch with her at Buck House – Buckingham Palace, I should say, yesterday, and now he's honouring us with his presence!"

"Taking a bit of a chance, aren't you?" Harm asked, "Aren't you worried that I might carelessly let slip that you were mocking your seniors?"

Gill looked at him thoughtfully, "No... That thought never even crossed my mind! Besides, he's not a bad old boy, he calls all the female officers 'm'dear', claims he can never remember their names. I think," she added conspiratorially "that it's just that he can't be bothered to learn the names in the first place!"

Harm just shook his head, "I don't understand the British at all," he complained, "On the one hand, you're surrounded by all the pomp and circumstance and formality. And you do it very well, I mean, I watched the Guards close order drill display a couple of weeks back, Far more precise than anything our forces could do, well with the possible exception of the Marines Ceremonial Drill Company, but your guys did it without any flash, or extravagant movements, and in those red uniforms and busbies!"

"Bearskins, Captain," Gill gently corrected him, "Busbies are worn by the King's Troop."

"The King's Troop?" Harm queried.

"Yes, King's Troop, Royal Horse Artillery. If you're referring to the Queen's Birthday Parade at Horse Guards, then they were there too. Six horse teams, pulling world war one vintage limbers and guns!"

"Yeah, I saw them too... but Horse Artillery?"

"A ceremonial unit, sir. The three regiments of Horse Artillery are all modern operational units, two of them have got the AS Nineties like ourselves, but Seventh is a Parachute Artillery regiment and they have the Light Guns that we saw in action this morning!"

"Yeah, right... but... but... what I was going to say, was despite all this formality, the way you and you soldiers act around each other... I was expecting yes sir, no sir, three bags full, sir, and yet today, I'm almost sure that your driver was teasing you at one point, and then I know you were teasing him about Martinez falling asleep on his shoulder. And that's another thing, do you always address them by rank?"

"Well, Gunners we generally address by their surname, or if they're long service or are regimental characters, occasionally we call them by a nicknames, but NCOs, yes, we always address NCOs by their rank. If we, the officers, don't respect that rank, then how can we expect the Gunners to respect it either? It strikes me just as odd when you just call you driver by her name, when by anybody's standards, she is an NCO."

"Right... well... I did follow your example and call your driver bombardier, although I nearly called him corporal at one time..."

Gill winced, "That would have been a black mark against you in his book! Our bombardiers are very proud of that distinction!"

"I see, and are there any other shibboleths I mustn't contravene tonight?"

"Well... I've told you about not leaving the table, the only other thing I can think of is that you mustn't talk across the table to the people opposite. You can talk to me and to whoever is on your right hand side. I think that's about it!"

"There are rules about whom you can talk with?"

"Well, yes... oh, and of course, at the end of dinner, there will be speeches, but I don't know if there will be a loyal toast... given the number of foreign officers who might find their republican sensitivities offended by toasting the Queen." Gill added, just a touch too innocently.

Harm looked at her sideways; however all that he said was "H'mm..."

"But if there is to be a loyal toast, then the mess waiters will come around and remove all the glasses except for the Port glass to be used for the toast."

"Why do they do that?" Harm asked, a look of interest on his face.

"Oh, it goes right back to the earliest days of the Royal Regiment in the early eighteenth century. The House of Hannover had replaced the House of Stuart as as the ruling dynasty. There had just been the 1714 rebellion in Scotland, and the Stuart pretender to the throne, the Old Pretender, James Stuart had taken refuge on the continent - Europe - and a favourite toast of his adherents here in Britain was to 'The King over the Water'. When it became dangerous to actually propose the toast in words, it became their custom while drinking to the King to pass their full glass over a finger bowl or other glass on the table, signifying that they were still drinking the toast 'over the water'. So it became the rule, that all other glasses, finger bowls, etcetera, would be removed from the table prior to the loyal toast being proposed."

Harm shook his head in disbelief, "And you still hold to that custom even after nearly three hundred years?"

"Of course, we do," Gill couldn't resist the temptation, "After all, where would be without these new traditions to take the place of old, forgotten customs? And speaking of which, there's one other tradition attached to the Loyal Toast. The President of the Mess, in this case the Commandant of the School, will call for attention, probably by means of a small silver bell, if my memory serves. Then he will say 'Mister Vice, the Queen'. The junior member of the mess is always nominated the Vice President, and he will stand and wait until everyone has stood, and say, 'Ladies and Gentlemen, the Queen'. Everyone else responds 'The Queen', and drains their glass. That marks the official end of the dinner, except that still no-one can leave until the Guest of Honour does, and in the interval, decanters of port will be passed around the table, and always in clockwise direction!"

"And of course, unfinished bar drinks are not to be bought to the table!" Harm added.

"Of course!" Gill replied with a chuckle.

xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx

Johnny gently applied the brakes and brought his five year old Astra to a gentle stop in the pub's car park. "We're here, and to prove it we've arrived!" he grinned.

Julia groaned, "Are you going to be making jokes like that all night?"

"Uh... not if they're going to make you pull a face like that!" Johnny said hastily, "The idea is to make you laugh, not cry!"

"I'll try to remember that, then," Julia said gravely but with a smile.

"Shall we go in then?" he asked.

"We shall!" Julia responded.

Johnny held the door open for her and Julia walked into what she'd always imagined a traditional English pub should look like, a long bar ran almost the full length of the back wall while high-backed bench seats ran the length of the other walls, pierced in a couple of places by doors and fronted by solid looking dark wooden tables. The walls were painted in a very light ochre yellow and immense, solid, dark, hammer beams ran the width of the ceiling.

Johnny led Julia to the bar and leaned on as he looked at her, "What would you like?"

Julia looked at the unfamiliar array of spirits behind the bar and at the beer engines mounted on it. "I'm not sure... what's an appropriate drink?"

"Well, what we call lager is probably the most like American beers, but I always reckon it's pretty poor stuff, unless you go for the high octane stuff, but it is definitely not my plan for you to get drunk tonight. So how about a half of bitter?"

"A half of what?" Julia sked.

"A half pint of bitter beer. It's traditional English beer, and this a pub that serves it in traditional beer engines, so there's no gas in it. Try it, if you don't like it, then there's no harm done, and I'll get you something else."

"OK, I'll give her a whirl," Julia surrendered, "but if it kills me, I'm coming back to haunt you!"

Johnny grinned, and turned to the barman, "Half of Three B's and a pint of soda and lemonade, please. And we'd like a restaurant table for two please."

xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx

It was just gone 2330 hours when Johnny pulled the Astra over to the side of the road outside the female soldiers' accommodation. "Here we be, back at home, or what passes for it, safe and sound!"

"Thank you, Johnny, for the meal, the introduction to English beer - which wasn't as bad as I'd been told - for your company, for looking after me, in fact for the whole evening."

"It was entirely my pleasure, Julia, I have thoroughly enjoyed these last two evenings!" He unbuckled his seat-belt and leaned towards her.

Julia stopped him by placing two fingers on his lips, "Johnny... I'm not interested in one night stands... or short term flings that go nowhere, so I need to be very, very sure..."

Johnny sat back, and nodded, "Yeah, I understand."

"Don't be mad at me, please?"

"Oh, I'm not mad, just trying to work up enough nerve to ask if you'd consider either me coming up to London to see you next weekend, or maybe tempting you to come back down to this neck of the woods."

"Oh..." Julia dropped her eyes and smiled shyly, "I think I'd like that... which way round, I'm not sure... But why don't you give me a call at the office next week, I'm sure we'll be able to sort something out?"

"Yes, I'm sure we will!" Johnny agreed, and leaning in towards her again he adjusted his aim and kissed her gently on the cheek. "Next time, that will be a target round!" he warned her with a grin.

"H'mm... maybe next time, the target won't be moving!" she answered, and then opening the car door, she slipped out into the night, turning to say "Goodnight, Johnny!" before crossing the few yards of walkway to the accommodation door. Johnny watched until she was safely inside, and with a not unsatisfied smile, he engaged first gear and drew away from the kerb.

Julia watched the tail lights disappear and with a cat that ate the canary smile, she headed for her room.

xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx

"Well, that was interesting!" Harm observed with a wry grin as he and Gill made their way back through the maze of corridors and staircases that led to her room."

"Captain Rabb, why do I get the feeling that you are not being entirely truthful?" Gill asked.

"I haven't got the faintest idea what you're talking about!" Harm declared virtuously.

"Bullshit! Gill declared roundly, "Come on, be honest enough to admit it, that dinner was one of the worst experiences you've ever suffered through!"

"Not at all," Harm disagreed airily, "The Waldorf Salad was a very good example of its kind, and is widely accepted throughout the civilised world as an entirely unexceptional first course. The garlic mushrooms, I admit, were a tad unusual as a substitute for the fish course, but were very tasty, and the butter sauce was actually superb! And although it's been a long time since nut cutlets were served in DC restaurants, the ones tonight were full of flavour, well cooked and well presented. The wines served with each course were well chosen to complement the food, and the port at the end of the evening, although I'm no expert, was quite acceptable."

"Oh, it was a good enough dinner, I'll grant you," Gill conceded, "but it was hardly good enough to invite a man to!"

"You're being a bit harsh, by my reckoning there were four hundred at dinner tonight, and I reckon the chefs did damn well!"

"Maybe from your point of view, but the Beef Wellington was sadly overcooked and as tough as old boots!" Gill complained, "And anyway, you can hardly have enjoyed being button-holed by that Dutch brigadier and being blamed for everything that's gone wrong in the world since the Second World War!"

"Aw shucks, ma'am. Iffen the Good Lord hadn't a wanted us to tek the blame for all of th' ills of the world, then I reck'n he wouldn't a given us sich broad shoulders!"

"That is absolutely absurd!" Gill scolded him, through her chuckles, "and where is that terrible accent from?"

"It's not that absurd," Harm disagreed, "We have made some terrible misjudgements in our foreign policy, and that accent is purest Alabamie!"

Gill gave him a look worthy of a basilisk, but which bounced harmlessly off him, "Ah, we're here!" she said, noticing the number on the door, and torn between relief and regret that the evening, and their conversation was over. "Captain, sir. Thank you for your escort tonight. I hope you sleep well, and I'll see you at breakfast at oh seven hundred!"

"You will, that, Captain. You will that!" Harm smiled, and waiting until she had entered her room and he had heard the lock snick behind her, he wandered off in search of his own room, a thoughtful smile on his face.


	9. Chapter 9

**9**

"'Morning you!" Johnny said cheerfully as Julia, lugging her sea-bag barged through the doors of the female soldiers' accommodation, "Here, I'll take that!" and before she could protest, if that had been on her mind, he had taken the bag and slung it over his shoulder.

"Good morning to you too," Julia smiled, taken slightly by surprise by Johnny's action, no US serviceman, so indoctrinated by political correctness as they were, would have taken her bag from her. But she didn't mind that Johnny had done so, after all, she told herself, he couldn't be expected to know better.

"I've been a-thinking," Johnny said once they were both settled in the Landrover, with Julia's bag stowed next to the radio sets. "Your man going to be in a hurry to get back to the Smoke?"

"The what?"

"The Smoke – London. Officers call it 'Town' but to us blokes it's 'The Smoke'."

"I don't know... I guess."

"OK, here's my idea. We have a very quick breakfast, then we go up to the Mess, here, and you take your car and follow me to the mess at Larkhill. That way, when we're done with playing silly buggers, you can head straight back. It'll save time in coming back here to Tidworth, and faffing about with kit-bags and suit-carriers, and stuff." 'And,' he added silently, 'you won't get thrown around in the back of the Landrover for too long'.

"Johnny Walker, are you trying to get rid of me?" Julia demanded, pouting slightly, but failing to hide completely the laughter in her eyes and voice.

"No! I'm just trying to make life a bit easier for you, honest!" Johnny blurted, and then as he realised, he grinned and added, "And you just got me, didn't you?"

"Only a little bit!" Julia giggled.

xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx

Johnny and Julia saluted crisply, as the two officers, laden with overnight bags and suit carriers walked through the Mess doors. Harm returned the salutes and eyed the tableau in front of him with a cocked eyebrow, "So what have we got here?" he asked as he saw the Navy sedan drawn up behind the Landrover.

"Bombardier Walker's idea, sir" Julia said, anxious that he should get the credit. "He suggested that if we load the car now with our gear, then we could come back here as soon as we're finished with the demonstration and get on our way without delaying by having to go back to the barracks at Tidworth... sir."

"H'mm, trying to get rid of us, Bombardier?" Harm turned an amused eye on Johnny.

"No, sir! Just trying to make things as easy for you as we can!"

"What do you think, Captain? Can we trust his motives?" Harm asked Gill.

"Yes... I think so."

"Very well! Open the trunk Yeoman Two, and let's get our gear stowed away!"

"Aye, aye, sir!"

It too only a few minutes for Harm's sea-bag and suit carrier to be secured in the car, and for Gill's gear to be stowed away in the Landrover. Gill took a last look around to ensure that nothing had been overlooked, before she gave a decisive nod and said, "I think that's everything, Bom. Let's go!"

"Yes, ma'am!" Johnny waited until the two women were safely installed in the rear of the vehicle before he climbed up behind the wheel and buckled his seat-belt before turning his head to ask Gill, "Still straight for the Bombard Shelter, ma'am?"

"Yes, please, Bom." Gill answered as she wriggled in an effort to get as comfortable as possible.

"Excuse me, ma'am?" Julia asked tentatively.

"Yes, what is it Petty Officer?" Gill replied. The two women hadn't spoken much, but Gill had been impressed by the younger woman's appearance and bearing, and even today, after a night in transit accommodation, she had managed to rid her uniform of the accumulated dust and grime of the previous day's activities

"Uh... what's a bombard shelter?"

"It's a protected bunker, from which we can observe the fall of shot from the target end of the trajectory." Gill told her, "In other words, we'll be behind a couple of metres of reinforced concrete and rammed earth, about one hundred and twenty yards from where the shells from this morning's demonstration will be landing. Then once the shoot is over, we get a chance to leave the shelter and examine the effects of fire on the targets. It will also give you an inkling of what it feels like to be under artillery fire. Oh, don't worry, she called out cheerfully as she saw the look of concern on Julia's face while the Landrover turned off the tarmac road onto one of the tracks across the ranges, "It's perfectly safe, even if it is a tad scary!"

Julia gulped, "If you say so, ma'am." she said unhappily.

Gill smiled in what she hoped was a reassuring way, "Honestly, it's not so bad as it sounds. All Gunner officers do this as a part of their YOs' course straight after commissioning. This is my third time in the shelter, and I'm still here to smile about it!"

Julia smiled nervously back. Fortunately she didn't have much longer to brood as the Landrover bounced its way over the plain, Johnny deliberately keeping a good distance between himself and the vehicle ahead in order to avoid the chalk dust churned up by its wheels, firstly so that he could see where he was going, and secondly to keep the dust out of eyes, ears, noses and mouths.

"That's the worst of the Plain, sir!" he said to Harm. "In summer it's a dust bowl. In winter it's a bog!"

"I thought being chalk, the water drained away quickly, Bombardier?" Harm queried.

"It does sir, up to a limit, and then, maybe the land gets like a sponge, it gets to a stage where it can't absorb any more, or maybe because it comes down in greater quantities than the land can deal with. But the ground does get boggy, that's when all these damn ruts get carved into it!" Johnny grunted as the off-side front wheel dropped into a hidden rut, jarring his spine as the shock travelled up his legs.

"Sorry about that ma'am! Just didn't see that bastard!"

"OK, Bom, we're still in one piece – more or less!" Gill replied, rolling her eyes for Julia's benefit.

"It's over now ma'am, we're at the Zulu muster!" Johnny said as he braked to a halt, aligning the Landrover at the end of a row of similar vehicles.

Barely had they dismounted when a Gunner Captain hurried across to meet them, his eyes flicking from one to the other in order to identify to whom he should speak . He recognised Gill as he drew nearer and having seen Harm dismount from the vehicle's cab, he looked more carefully, seeing the US Navy tag on his BDUs as well as the black Eagle patch on his collar. Halting, he saluted Harm, "Good morning, sir, I'm Captain Andrews, the safety officer for today."

"Good morning Captain. Harmon Rabb, USN and Captain Shephard..."

"Yes, sir. I know Captain Shephard, how are you Gill?" He smiled and extended a hand.

Gill took the proffered hand, "Good morning, Ken. I'm fine... so you're our minder for the day?"

"I am, for my sins," he grinned, "Look, do you mind taking your party straight to the shelter. You know the path? It hasn't changed. I've got my hands a bit full just now, and it would make it easier."

"Sure, you go ahead. The usual NSPs, I take it?"

"Yes, thanks! I owe you one!" With a grin and second hasty salute, he left the group and bore down on the party dismounting from the next vehicle to arrive.

"OK, your attention please," Gill said in a serious voice. "The bunker is around the end of that stand of trees, about three hundred metres from here. The path from here skirts the impact area, and although there the path is subject to rigorous EOD, there is a real danger from unexploded ordnance if you should stray off it. So Do. Not. Leave. The. Path. I'll lead, Captain Rabb please follow me, then you Petty Officer. Bombardier Walker you're tail-end Charlie. Clear?"

A chorus of 'Yes, ma'am' greeted her words, but it was Harm's joining in with the two NCOs that brought the grin to her face. "Alright, let's go!"

The Bombard Shelter was a long, basically rectangular building with an arched roof. It had two steel doors, one in each short end wall of the building, and the whole structure looked a bit like a an oversized Nissen or Quonset hut that had had turf laid over it.

Passing through the door Harm took comfort from the fact that there seemed to be a good three feet of earth rammed hard against a further three feet of concrete, and although he knew deep down that the British Army wouldn't knowingly put its guests in danger, he couldn't help nut be reassured by the solidity of the structure.

Once inside the shelter he could see that there was a bank of communication equipment at the far end, at which sat a couple of British Soldiers, already wearing headsets, while an Officer checked map details, and occasionally spoke to one of the signallers who relayed his remarks over the net. One long wall was pierced every few feet by observation ports which held armoured glass, allowing those in the shelter to observe the fall of shot. Gill led them to one such observation port and with a rueful grin said, "Now we must suffer the curse of all military operations!" she grinned at Harm and Julia's expressions, "We've hurried up to get here, now we must wait!"

"Yeah, we suffer from the same affliction too!" Harm acknowledged.

Johnny slid down with his back against the wall, and tugged on Julia's hand as he did so, "Like my dear old drinking uncle used to say, 'it's foolish to stand up when you can sit down'."

Julia grinned, but then as she saw that Gill didn't make any comment, she looked questioningly at Harm.

"Go ahead, Yeoman Two, if you want to. It's your six that's going to get dirt on it!"

Julia copied Johnny's slide down the wall and looked around her with renewed interest. The shelter was filling up with officers in all kinds of different field uniforms, and none of them seemed to be less than field grade, except for the British Captain who had first greeted them and was now talking to an NCO posted by the door.

Whatever Captain Andrews said, the NCO nodded once, and heaved the door shut. It closed with a resounding clang, and both Harm and Julia were forcibly reminded of a ship's watertight doors being dogged shut, as the NCO took hold of a long, centrally mounted lever and tugged it across the surface of the door.

The officer at the far end of the shelter stood up, and raising a microphone to his lips, he spoke, "Your attention please, ladies and gentlemen. I am Major Thornton, the Range Conducting Officer for today. In about ten minutes the demonstration will begin. The first shoot will be a Fire Mission Battery, five rounds fire for effect, after adjustment. I will have the radio routed through the speakers along the wall," he indicated their position, and the visitors duly followed his signals and looked up to see the equipment, "So that you can follow the progress of the Mission. Once End of Mission has been given. The CP will order Report Guns Empty and then Detachments Rear. Once we have heard that, the doors will be opened, and we will have ten minutes to examine the effect of the fire on the targets. If you look through the observation ports you will see a motley collection of vehicles and a number of Figure 11 targets. These you will be able to examine and judge the effect the fire would have had on live targets. Are there any questions?"

"An officer in the uniform of the Bundeswehr raised a hand, "Ja,herr Major. On the vay here, ve vere told not to step ov the track for fear of nicht explodierter Munition ...uh... unexploded munitions... Vhat meks it now so safe for us to valk amongst the targets?"

"A good question, Herr Oberst," The British Major replied. "Artillery ammunition is most reliable. Unfortunately the Royal Artillery is no longer the only user of these ranges, and a great deal of firing is now carried out by non-Gunners using infantry weapons, which sadly are not always as reliable as ours. It is these that pose the greatest problem. The impact area in from of the shelter is rigorously swept each time it is used. And as a further measure for your, and my safety – and I am very careful of that, I assure you..." he paused for the chuckle to die down, "We have a second observation party whose sole preoccupation today is the counting of individual shell bursts. If the number of bursts does not equal or exceed the number of rounds fired, then we will not be taking a stroll around the targets, instead the targets will brought in here for examination."

The German officer nodded, "Ja, Thank you, Herr Major!"

"Any other questions? No? Good. Bombardier, tell Zero that we're ready for them to begin!"

"Sir!" replied on of the signallers, and raising his microphone to his mouth he began to speak.

As promised the radio messages were relayed through the wall mounted speakers and Gill, listening to them intently was able to translate their meaning for Harm, while Johnny was doing the same for Julia, finally saying, "You might just want to get up see this!"

Johnny hauled himself to his feet then turned to give Julia hand, almost pulling her to her feet, so that she stumbled slightly. His hands shot out to grab her by the upper arms and steady her. Julia blushed and murmured just loud enough for him to hear, "You did that on purpose!"

Johnny just grinned, and said, "OK now watch!" he nodded towards the armoured observation port. Julia jumped as a silent plume of smoke and dust leaped into the air less than two hundred yards distant. The thickness of the walls and of the glass prevented her from hearing the noise of the detonation, and in some ways it was, she felt, like watching an old silent movie from World War One, but the shock effect travelling through the ground was easily felt through her booted feet, and that was definitely not within the realm of watching a movie.

There was a pause of a minute or so before the next shower of chalk erupted from the ground, this one less than a hundred and fifty metres away and right in the middle of the prepared targets.

Again the shock waves were felt by those inside the bunker, and Harm and Julia exchanged glances. True Harm had felt the explosions of the near misses that he and Mac had survived in Afghanistan, but they had been at a considerably greater distance. This was much closer, and in some ways felt more personal.

A minute later, it felt to Harm that all hell had broken loose as a storm of explosions threw dust and smoke into the air. The ground literally trembled under his feet, and although he had read, years ago, Ernst Junger's book 'Storm of Steel' he had never before appreciated the intensity of an artillery bombardment. And this event, as earth shaking as it felt, and as impressive as it had looked through the observation port had only been thirty rounds, fired over a period of two minutes!

As the last of the tremors underfoot faded the speakers crackled into life again, "End of Mission. Good shooting!"

Looking through the observation port, several vehicle could be seen burning, and of the cluster of Figure 11 targets, several had been blown flat, while others leaned at drunken angles, and more than one had been ripped into shreds.

The British Major who had been listening intently to the radio finally heard the message for which he'd been waiting, "Detachments rear!" and gave the signal to the NCO standing by the door, who swung the lever back to the 'open' position, and heaved the door open. The guests were ushered out into the open and almost immediately noticed that the air that they breathed had become tainted with the smell of burnt cordite.

Gill led Harm, Julia and Johnny towards the nearest group of Figure 11 targets, and as they approached they became aware of several gashes ripped through the printed human figures that had been pasted onto the plywood backing. "You can see where the targets have been hit," Gill pointed out the gashes, "This one and this one, would have done this chap no good at all, and this one alone, would have killed him!" Gill pointed to one particular gash that extended for several inches from the printed figure's right hip, well up into his chest region.

"Shrapnel wounds?" Harm asked.

"Strictly speaking, no," Gill answered, "Splinter wounds or fragment wounds would be more accurate. Nobody has used shrapnel ammunition since about nineteen sixteen, but the term is so widely and incorrectly used, particularly in the media, that people will insist on calling it shrapnel." She dropped her eyes and searched the ground for a minute or so and then bending one knee, she stooped down and rose to her feet again.

"Shrapnel was a shell that contained hundreds of ball bearings wrapped around a bursting charge, and was fused so that it exploded in the air in front of the enemy. Its best use was against troops in the open. Trench warfare really put an end to it. But the damage here today as done by fragments like this:" She opened her hand to show three shiny, irregularly shaped and very jagged shards of metal.

"They produce very nasty jagged wounds that bleed freely, because there is very little hydrostatic shock to accompany them, and depending on the size can cause traumatic amputation of limbs or the head. The shells also kill by over pressure, destroying internal organs by the shock wave travelling through the air."

Julia looked pale, and even Harm looked grim. Yes, aerial bombardment did much the same thing, but as he had already noted, and had been told by Gill, one of the characteristics of artillery was its ability to repeat a fire mission in a matter of seconds if the initial bombardment did not achieve its desired result.

Johnny had only been paying half attention, he already knew what Gill was telling the two American sailors, and so he was the first to spot the Range Conducting Officer approach the various groups and start to shepherd them back towards the shelter.

"Ma'am?" he said quietly, but nevertheless interrupting her mini-lecture, "Time we were heading back indoors."

Gill looked around and nodded, "Do you want a souvenir, sir?" she asked Harm, holding up one of the shell fragments.

"No, I don't think so, thank you," he replied somewhat grimly, "the mental images I've gathered will be quite enough." he made a sweeping gesture with an arm that indicated the devastated targets. Gill nodded in understanding. She had never been an FOO, female officers weren't allowed that far forward, but she had been at OPs several times to watch the fall of shot, and this had been her third visit to the Bombard Shelter, but even she had undergone a certain tenseness as the shells had fallen so near.

Once safely back inside, the Range Conducting Officer announced that the next fire mission would be a fire mission three batteries, triple the amount of fire that they had just witnessed. Having seen the damage that a five round mission from a single battery could do, and having felt the shock-waves underfoot, there was scarcely a pair of lips in the shelter that wasn't dry as they waited for the mission to start

The fire mission, when it came, lasted no longer than the first, but three times the number of exploding shells in the same area not only tripled but also intensified the ground-borne shock-waves, until it seemed that the ground was literally shaking beneath their feet, and it was with an almost unconscious collective sigh of relief that the audience realised that the shoot, and with it the fire-power demonstration had come to an end.

xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx

The drive back to the Larkhill Officers' Mess was accomplished quickly and for the most part in silence. The impact of the morning's demonstration had had a sobering effect on the two sailors, and Johnny was pre-occupied with thoughts of how soon he could call Julia, while Gill was mentally running through the items on her mental check-list before she departed on a week's leave the following Friday before leaving the regiment for her new posting at the MOD in London.

Pre-occupied he may have been, but Johnny sounded cheerful enough as he braked to a halt alongside the Navy Sedan, "Here we are,sir! All safe and sound with nary a scratch on you!"

Harm who hadn't been privy to Corporal Morrison's warning to Julia, was completely ignorant, of course, of the fact that Julia had confided that warning to Johnny the previous night over dinner, was taken slightly aback at the British NCOs' comment but managed a creditable, "Yes, thank you Bombardier!"

The four dismounted from the Landrover and stood in a somewhat awkward group for a few moments, until a spark of inspiration struck Harm. "Walk with me," he said to Gill. It wasn't a request, but it wasn't quite an order either, but Gill saw and heard nothing wrong with the idea, or the way it had been put to her, and fell into step with him as walked along the edge of the tarmac that bordered the lawn in front of the Mess building.

"I... uh... was thinking last night... after dinner, how we got off on the wrong foot, the other evening, and I got to admit that I blamed you..." he held up a hand, "No, don't interrupt... but then I got to thinking about our only previous conversation when you called my office and we spoke on the 'phone. I was... uh... taken aback by the coolness in your voice, and put it down to you being a typically arrogant Brit, and reacted to your voice and to my assumptions. But it didn't jibe with the person I've come to know, if only slightly, over the past forty-some hours. And thinking back again to that conversation, I remember just how irritable I was that morning, too many interruptions, too much paperwork, Trouble and Strife, an insubordinate Yeoman – two insubordinate Yeomen in fact. One in London and the other in the States! So, in addition to my thanks for an enlightening and enlivening two days, during which time you have been a very gracious hostess and guide, I would like also to extend my apologies, for my attitude, which obviously, again in retrospect, sparked off your own... ah..."

"Bitchiness?" Gill supplied with a smile. "Sir, there is no need for you to apologise to me. I have been in the army quite long enough that I should be able to cope with Senior Officers' quirks without letting them get to me. I'm only sorry that my lack of self control should have given you any idea that we were all stuffed shirts!"

"Believe me, Captain Shephard, despite the formality of last night's dinner, I will never think of the British Officer as a stuffed shirt again!"

xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx

Johnny and Julia watched the two officers stroll away with a mutual sigh of relief, and each hearing the other they turned with a slightly embarrassed air. "Was I that obvious?" Johnny asked Julie.

"Yeah you were, but no worse than me!" she smiled, but then sobered, "Were you serious last night, about calling me, about wanting to see me again?"

"Of course I was!" Johnny said taken aback, "Why on earth would you think I wasn't?"

"Well... Soldiers and sailors... well... a lot of them have a reputation of saying anything to a girl as long as it gets them what they want..." Julia said awkwardly.

Johnny was about to deny the charge, furiously, when a pang of conscience seized him. He had, in fact, been guilty of that approach himself, way back in the dim and distant past.

"That might have been true of me, about ten years ago," he confessed to Julia, "but I like to think that I've grown up a bit since then." He drew a deep breath, "look, Julia, if all I wanted was a one night stand, I could get that any night of the week in any one of half a dozen pubs in Salisbury. Instead, I want to... I want a chance to get to know you, much better than a two day stay and on duty can let me. And if that means waiting for the weekends so I can get up to London, or you can get down here, then that's the way I like it."

"Oh..." Julia pinkened slightly at the tone in Johnny's voice. "Yes... OK, you've got my number, I'll be waiting for you to call." Then seeing the two officers turn back towards them, she said, "I wonder if those two are going to get their heads out of their sixes?"

"Huh?" Johnny said in surprise.

"The Captains Two," Julia giggled, "I was just wondering if they'd ever make arrangements to meet in London or in Tidworth?"

"Him and her?" Johnny said incredulously, "You are joking! I thought they were going to kill each other on Thursday!"

"H'mm... it looked like that didn't it?" Julia smiled, "And I don't know about him, but your Captain Shephard is certainly attracted to my boss!"

Johnny looked at the two approaching officers with fresh eyes, "Really?" he asked doubtfully.

"Really!" Julia affirmed in a voice that left no further room for disagreement.

Johnny shrugged, "Oh, well, OK, if you say so!"

"I do say so... and if you keep that attitude up, we're going to get along just great!"

"Uh... yeah..." Johnny said, not quite sure what Julia meant, but the smile on her face told him that he'd just done, or said, something right.

"Face front!" she hissed as the two officers neared them. Johnny and Julia stepped away from each other. Julia taking post by the passenger door of the Sedan and Johnny stepping back to allow room for the two officers to walk into the space between the two vehicles.

Harm stopped by the door being held for him by Julia and turned to face Gill, "Captain, thank you for you hospitality and your instruction these past two days. You have given me some serious food for thought."

"It was my pleasure, sir!" Gill replied bringing her hand up in a sharp salute, while Johnny braced to attention in the background, "Goodbye,sir!"

Harm returned the salute, just as crisply as Gill had rendered it, "Goodbye, Captain!" he paused and with a nod at Johnny, "Bombardier!"

"Sir!"

With a final nod at Gill, Harm slid into the passenger seat of the sedan, while Julia closed the door and with a quiet, "By your leave, ma'am," slipped past Gill and with a brilliant smile and a silently mouthed 'call me' for Johnny, she got into the driver's seat and starting the engine, manoeuvred the sedan out into the stream of traffic that was building up as other officers returned to the Mess before heading off to their various destinations.

xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx

Gill and Johnny stood for a moment or two as the dark blue car with US Navy plates edged it way through the mass of vehicles that despite the best efforts of the Provost Bombardier and his RPs threatened to become just as grid-locked as it had the previous evening.

They both heaved a sigh of relief as the car edged clear of the mess and accelerated onto the road. Gill and Johnny grinned as they looked at each other, "Shall we go, Bom?"

"Well, there's nothing left for us to do here ma'am!" Johnny agreed "Straight home, ma'am?"

"Straight home – unless you want to buy me that greasy spoon sandwich!"

"I think I'll pass on that. Ma'am," Johnny grinned, as he held the door for his BK.

Gill laughed as Johnny closed the door and walked around the front of the vehicle to the driver's side. "All set, ma'am?" he asked as he buckled his belt.

"Think you can get through this lot, Bom?" Gill asked.

Johnny just gave her a reproving look, which only started her laughing again, which in turn coaxed a reluctant smile from him.

It did take Johnny some minutes and some silent cuss-words to weave a way through the stalled traffic, drawing a scowl from the hard-pressed provost NCO, but eventually he pulled out on to the road, and moving up through the gears settled the Landrover at a steady thirty miles per hour until they were clear of the garrison speed limit, accelerating again once he had crossed the Netheravon road heading once again for the Droveway and then the Tidworth road.

"Oh... it's so good to be back up front..." Gill said over the noise of the air over the canvas and the engine.

"Well, he did give you the option of riding in the cab, ma'am!" Johnny pointed out.

"Yes, he did! And the CO would have killed me!" Gill retorted, "I already put up a black on Thursday evening, so don't be surprised to see my name in Part One Orders as Duty Field Officer for the next week!"

Johnny smiled to himself, Gill was one of the most popular officers in the regiment, but she was still an officer and it didn't hurt that she could occasionally get it wrong.

The rest of the short journey passed in uneventful silence, even the halt at the Garrison VCP was brief, the Fusiliers who were this week's Duty Unit, accepting the British Identity Cards after only a cursory inspection, and with a smart butt-salute the Lance Corporal passed them through. There was even less fuss at the regimental guard room barrier, the RP on duty there being a member of the same battery as Gill and Johnny, and again with a butt-salute passed them through.

Without being told Johnny drove straight to the Mess, and as Gill dismounted, he jumped out too, both almost instinctively stamping their feet to settle the trouser blousing over the top of their boots. Johnny's efforts in that direction were of course instantly negated as he climbed into the rear of the vehicle to salvage Gill's overnight bag and suit carrier.

"Can I take those for you, ma'am?" he asked as he climbed out of the vehicle, once again stamping his feet.

"No, that's alright Bom, thank you. I can manage."

"OK, ma'am," Johnny threw his hand up in a salute, "I'll put this baby to bed, and I'll see you on Monday morning ma'am!"

"Yes. Thank you, Bom!" Gill returned the salute, and bag and suit carrier in hand climbed the steps up to the Mess doors, her mind firmly set on a shower to get rid of the morning's dust, a hot soak to relieve any incipient aches and pains after being bounced around in the back of the Landrover for what now seemed like days on end. The soak would of course, also allow her to try and analyse why she felt so... so... 'Oh, for God' sake, admit it girl! You _are_ attracted to that Yankee sailor!'

xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx

Harm sat back and closed his eyes briefly. Bombardier Walker was a good driver, and had tried his damnedest to make the ride in the Landrover as easy as he could, but there was no getting away from it, he had been thoroughly bounced around during the experience. It was no wonder that Martinez had been overcome with travel sickness. And that was something he needed to check on.

"Yeoman Two, are you frequently travel sick?"

"Uh... no sir!" Julia replied, "Hardly never! I used to be as a kid, but until yesterday, I hadn't been car sick in years!"

"So, it was the heat and the motion, Yeoman Two?"

"I reckon so, sir. You rode in back of that monster for a while, it's worse than a Humvee!"

"That it it is Yeoman Two, that it is!"

Julia frowned, there was something peculiar about what the Captain was saying, and after pondering for as few seconds she realised what was, "Sir?"

"Yes?"

"Have you forgotten my name, sir?"

"No, why?" Harm asked in surprise.

"Well, you keep calling me by rate and rating, instead of my name, it sounds kinda strange..."

"Oh, that's probably because I'm channelling Captain Shephard. The British always call their NCOs by rank. She says that if the Officers don't show respect for their NCOs, how can they expect the privates to show respect. So, I thought I'd give it a try!"

"Oh, OK, sir. It just feels a little strange... That Captain Shephard, she's something, isn't she sir?"

"How do you mean?" Harm said, his tone suddenly becoming severe. He wasn't about to let his Yeoman gossip about other officers, even if they were British.

"No disrespect intended, sir!" Julia said hastily as she picked up his change in tone, "It's just that I was thinking about what a tough week she's had, what with packing, ready for her move, handing over her post to a new guy and then looking after us... well, you sir..."

"Move, what move?" Harm demanded becoming aware of a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach.

"Didn't she say, sir? She's being posted to the Ministry of Defence in London in two weeks!"

"No... she didn't tell me..." Harm said, and wondered why she hadn't.


	10. Chapter 10

**10**

The return journey to London had been accomplished quickly and in a comfortable silence and Harm had dismissed Julia for the weekend as soon as she had delivered him to his quarters in the senior officers' row of base housing. He let himself into the silent and empty house and was struck anew at the perversity of a military that couldn't provide adequate base housing for enlisted personnel, despite its own requirement that single or unaccompanied E-4s and below lived in BEQ, yet provided a four-bedroom two bathroom house for a single man just because he had reached the dizzy heights of O-6.

Dumping his sea-bag just inside the door, he wandered into the kitchen and made himself a very much needed mug of decent coffee, before mentally girding his loins and setting about the weekend's domestic chores.

Monday morning found him still vaguely unsettled, and with his thoughts drifting more and more frequently towards Captain Gillian Shephard of the Royal Artillery. They had parted on friendly terms, even if not exactly friends. But, yes, that was something he'd like to explore: a friendship with Gill Shephard.

But even that bout of self-analysis hadn't done anything to calm him, overwhelmingly conscious as he was that today, later today by his reckoning, A J Chegwidden would be standing up as his attorney in front of the Blacksburg Family Court to argue that Tom Johnson should be stripped of his parental rights, on the grounds of child abandonment, and that Harmon David Rabb should be permitted to adopt the female child Mathilda Grace Johnson.

His introspection was broken by the insistent buzz of his intercom, "Yes?"

"Lieutenant Sullivan and Tierney to see you, sir!" Harm frowned, there seemed to be a hint of laughter in Yeoman Two Martinez' voice. He would need to speak with her about that later. "Send 'em in!" he waited for the rap on the door frame and called "Enter!"

The two lieutenants marched in perfect lock step across the carpet and came to a drill field precise halt in front of his desk.

"Lieutenants Sullivan and Tierney, sir!" Tierney rapped out. "Thank you for seeing us, sir!"

"Alright, get on with..." Harm's voice faded into silence as he did a classic double take at them in each in turn. Tierney was definitely sporting a black eye, while it looked as if Sullivan had a bruise on her cheek, imperfectly covered by concealer.

"What the hell!" Harm exploded, "have you two finally lost your minds as well as your tempers and had a physical fight?!"

"Yessir!" from Tierney.

"Nosir!" from Sullivan.

"Dammit! Make up your minds!"

"Well, it was a fight sir," Sullivan said, shooting a cautionary sideways glance at Tierney as she spoke, "but it was all regular and in order, with a referee. And... it was my fault, sir!"

"How do you make that out?" Harm glared at her.

"Um... I was winding Lieutenant Tierney up, sir, about how martial arts were more effective than boxing, and I kept on at him until he told me to put up or shut up... so I challenged him to a bout, sir. His boxing skills against my kick-boxing style... sir!"

Harm blinked, he certainly hadn't been expecting that, "So it was all set up regular, and in the gym?"

"Yessir!" The response came in chorus.

"With a referee and time keeper, and seconds?"

"Yessir! The referee was Staff Sergeant Haldane from the Embassy Security Detail, sir!""

"H'mph!" And although he didn't really want to, Harm couldn't resist asking, "And who won?"

"Uh... nobody, sir," Tierney said.

"The judges declared it a tie after three rounds, sir!" Sullivan said.

"Alright... I'll let it slide, this time!" Harm fixed an iron hard stare on each of them, "But this will be the first and last time this happens. I do not approve of men and women in the ring at the same time, no matter how General Cresswell might view the matter! Is that understood?"

"Sir, yessir!" rang out crisply from each officer.

Harm sat back and relaxed slightly, "Alright, that wasn't what you came to see me about, was it?"

"Uh... not quite sir," Tierney answered with a nervous glance at Sullivan, "You see sir, once we'd got the aggression out into the open, we sort of figured out that we've got more in common with each other than we have against each other. So... after the match, we... uh... went out for a drink, sir. And we had a really nice evening, and we sort of figured, that as we enjoyed each... other's... company... so..." Tierney's delivery slowed down and he stuttered to a halt as he became aware of the gimlet like stare Harm had concentrated on him.

Sullivan shot him a swift glance, and unconsciously she took a half pace forward, "To cut a long story short, sir. We decided that we would like to enjoy more of each other's company, so we've come to inform you sir, that we intend to start dating."

"I see..." Harm had to bite the inside of his cheek to prevent a shout of incredulous laughter. "Very well. I can't prevent you from dating, you are both of the same grade, you both have about the same time in grade, and neither of you reports to the other. You realise that from this moment on you can neither partner nor oppose each other on investigations or in the courtroom?" 'Probably to Commander Moreley's relief' Harm silently reflected.

"Yessir!"

"Good. Furthermore, no matter what the state of your... relationship, I expect you to maintain full military decorum at all times while on duty, whether in or out of uniform. Understood?"

"Yessir!"

"Good! Because if I even begin to suspect that your relationship has any effect on the good order and discipline of my office, my wrath will be great and the punishment condign! Understood?"

"Sir, yessir!"

"Alright..." Harm blew out a long breath, "Dismissed!"

"Aye, aye, sir!" again in chorus, and again with drill field precision the two about-faced and left the office, Tierney once again holding open the door for Sullivan, but Harm noticed with a grin that this time she smiled rather than scowled at him.

The unexpected injection of good humour bore him up through the rest of the morning and even through lunch time. His lightened mood even enabled him to plough through the mass of files that appeared in his in-tray during lunch, Martinez having taken advantage of his half hour absence to add to his workload for the day, until just before sixteen forty five hours, as he was preparing to wind down for the day his telephone rang.

"Yes?"

"Sir, there's an A J Chegwidden on line..."

"Put him through!" Harm almost snapped.

"_Hello, Harm_?"

"Sir... uh... I mean A J... how... how did it go..."

"_Mixed results, son. Johnson lost his parental rights, but Mattie's been made a ward of the Commonwealth of Virginia, but with custody granted to you until she reaches the age of eighteen, or she petitions the court to be placed elsewhere, whichever comes sooner_."

"Well, that's good, isn't it?"

"_Well, yes and no. Mattie has to remain in the states, unless and until we can appeal the judgement, and I've already started on that. I understand you're coming across for the holiday weekend_?"

"Yes... yes, I am..." Harm agreed in a somewhat crestfallen voice.

"_Don't take it too badly to heart, Harm. I'll see you on Saturday at the Roberts, and we'll go through the appeal strategy then, OK_? _And don't get too downhearted, we knew this was going to be a tough case going in, and at least we've made some progress_!"

"Yeah, well forgive me if I'm not exactly turning cartwheels for joy, but thanks for calling and thanks for all you're doing..."

"_Yeah, bye, Harm_." The former SeAL decided to end the conversation at that point and leave Captain Rabb to find his own resolution.

"Bye, A J". Harm replaced the receiver in its cradle and steepled his fingers. He was bitterly disappointed that the court hadn't allowed him to adopt Mattie today, but as A J had said, it was a tough case and his absence, although on duty, wouldn't have helped, at that instant he determined that come hell or high water, he would be present in Blacksburg at the appeal!

At the same time in McLean, Virginia, A J Chegwidden turned his attention to the legal pad in front of him and continued to marshal his thoughts as he prepared the groundwork for the appeal.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

That Wednesday afternoon Bombardier Walker almost staggered out of the Adjutant's office. Of all the thoughts that had run through his mind for the possible reasons for the summons to RHQ the idea that he'd been awarded a gong was nowhere near anywhere on his list!. 'The Military Cross... 'king hell!' he mused in bewilderment, 'All I did was keep meself from getting killed. I wasn't being brave at all, I was just shit scared!'.

"You alright, Bombardier?" RSM Crowther cast a shrewd look at the normally cheerful but currently subdued Junior NCO.

"Yes, sir, thank you," Johnny managed with a weak version of his usual grin, "Just sort of took me by surprise, is all."

"It shouldn't have, son," the usually gruff and stern RSM replied, "You deserved it lad, well done!"

Those few words from the Regiment's first soldier sunk in where the more politely phrased, but no less sincere, congratulations of the CO hadn't quite penetrated.

"Just make sure that you are immaculate on parade when the day comes!" RSM Crowther cautiond him sternly, "Because I shall be inspecting you, personally!"

Somehow the return of the RSM to his normal, less kindly persona snapped Johnny back to reality. "Yes, sir! I shall even polish the backs of my bomb plates!"

"You make sure you do, Bombardier, now fall out and get back to work!"

"Yessir!" Johnny said, not quite daring to grin at the RSM.

"First time, I've ever seen Bombardier Walker at a loss for words, sir!" The Chief Clerk remarked to the RSM.

"Well, it's not every day that even a cocky little so and so like Walker gets the MC, is it, Chief?" the RSM replied as he turned to head back to his own office.

"No... but I'd love to be in the NAAFI bar tonight, after the award is published in Part One's!" the Chief said.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Julia squealed with excitement, "Oh, Johnny! Of course I'll be there on the twenty third, I wouldn't miss it for the world!"

"And we're still OK for this weekend?" Johnny asked a trifle breathlessly.

"Yes. I'm all set. I meet you at the Red Lion in Salisbury on Saturday, I've got to take Captain Rabb to the airport on Friday evening and then I need to see Corporal Morrison in hospital before I'm free, is that OK?"

"Well, not really... but duty is duty. I'll see you on Saturday!"

"OK!"

She clicked off her cell – or mobile as she was learning to call it in the UK – and sunk back on her bed smiling fondly, 'The Military Cross, my hero... my Johnny... Wait a minute! Where the hell did that come from? Still it has got quite a nice ring to it...'

Her smile grew wider and she gave a deep contented sigh before she turned to Rocky, her ancient, battered stuffed toy raccoon that usually shared her bed.

"Looks like you've got competition on the horizon," she warned him.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx **

Harm took a final look around his office; his desk was clear, even his in-tray was empty, and for a brief moment he felt a glow of satisfaction, but even as he looked at all the signs that he was finally up to date with his workload he knew that by the time he returned on Wednesday there would another pile of paperwork, of monumental proportions for him to deal with.

Still that would be Wednesday, today was Friday, and he had a plane to catch! Patting his suit jacket's inside pocket he reassured himself that his own passport was there, together with Mattie's, and picking up his sea-bag and garment bag, he walked through the door into Julia Martinez's office.

"All set, Yeoman Two?" he asked.

"All set, sir!" Julia answered, "The car's downstairs and under the watchful eye of the security detachment!" Like Harm, Julia was dressed in civilian clothes, in her case a pair of charcoal grey tailored pants and a neatly ironed cream cotton blouse, open at the throat to reveal a slim gold chain around her neck.

"Good, let's go! And no, I can carry my own bags!" he added firmly as Julia stretched out a hand to relieve him of at least one of his burdens.

"You do know the route to the airport, don't you?" Harm asked as, contrary to protocol, he settled himself into the front passenger seat of the Navy sedan.

"Yes, sir, down to Knightsbridge to pick up the A4, then west to the M4 and the turn off to Heathrow is just before the M25 interchange. Even I can't miss it, sir!" Julia responded.

"If you say you know the route, that's good enough for me, Yeoman Two," Harm said mildly, but with just the hint of reproof in his voice.

"Yes, sir." Julia paused for a moment, "Sorry, sir".

"OK... now, let's go over this driving thing one more time, so I can get it fixed in my head. You applied for a provisional licence, took a concentrated driving course, culminating in a written test and then a practical driving test, right?"

"Yes, sir," Julia agreed as she smoothly accelerated through a narrowing gap between a Transit van and a bendy-bus.

"And it was all on your own dime, right?"

"Right, sir."

"But it's not strictly necessary, right?"

"No, sir. If you hold a valid US driving licence, and a Navy driving permit for the UK, then you are cleared to drive in the UK, but it's much easier to get a rental with a UK licence.

"OK, thanks again for that. Now, this weekend, once you've delivered me to the airport, you are stood down until zero eight hundred hours Tuesday morning, but I'd like you to deliver my uniform to the cleaner's when you get back into London, and pick it up on your way in on Tuesday, please."

"Of course, sir!"

"And you have got plans for the weekend, I take it?" Harm asked, not wanting any of his staff to be moping around at a loose end over the holiday, but to his surprise, Julia blushed scarlet.

Her eyes firmly fixed on the road as they approached Chiswick roundabout, she answered, "O, yes, sir! I'm going down to Woolwich this evening to see Corporal Morrison, and then tomorrow I'm taking a trip out to the country, but I'll be back on Monday for the staff picnic; I'm second base and fourth hitter for the squids and jarheads' softball game!"

"Well, take it easy, I don't want to find you in hospital when I get back!"

"No sir, I'll leave getting injured to the Marines – they have a higher pain threshold," Julia risked a joke.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx **

Gill flopped into the so-called easy chair, that together with the bed, bedside table, chest of drawers and wardrobe made up the furnishings of her room, and toed her shoes off, sighing as the pressure on her feet eased.

Her first week in London had been... well, interesting was as good a word for it as any she supposed. Her room in The King's Troop Mess was slightly larger than the room she had been allocated in Three Eight's Mess, and with the exception of the adjutant, who had been a bit stiff when she'd paid him the obligatory courtesy call, the other officers of the Troop after some initial wariness had become friendly enough when they learned that she rode, and she had been almost instantaneously invited to 'ride out' when her duties permitted, an offer she had gratefully accepted with the spoken caveat that it probably wouldn't be for a couple of weeks while she got settled not only to her new quarters but also her new job. She also kept a further caveat to herself; she hadn't ridden for a couple of years and she knew that for the first week or two long unused muscles would be howling a protest.

Still, just sitting around wasn't going to buy the baby a new bonnet, she sighed, and reluctantly picked up the handful of mail that had been deposited in her pigeon hole in the Mess lobby. The monthly catalogue from that damned on-line clothing company. She had forgotten just how many times she asked and then demanded to be taken off their mailing list. Well, that was straight into the waste paper basket, a card from David, post marked Dubai. He hadn't said much on his last leave, but she got the feeling that his ship, HMS Defiant, a brand new type 45 or 'D' Class destroyer, was carrying out anti-piracy patrols in the waters off Somalia.

She grinned as she read the scribbled message on the back of the card, the usual, I-am-well-hope-you-are-too. Brief and uninformative the card may have been, but at least Lieutenant Commander Shephard was finally making some effort to communicate with his family.

And now, the buff envelope with the Three Eight Regiment rubber stamp in the bottom left hand corner. Sighing again, she had been expecting her Mess Bill, but hadn't thought it would have caught up with her quite so quickly, she slit the envelope open and fearing the worst, opened the single sheet of paper it contained. As she read, her face cracked open in a huge grin, Bombardier Walker had been informed of his medal and would have it presented to him on a formal parade on Saturday, 23rd July 2005, and the letter signed by Colonel Mike was her invitation to the parade together with the offer of overnight accommodation on the 22nd.

Gill glanced at her watch, although she already knew that it was too late to catch her former Battery Clerk still at his desk, so she made a mental note to call him first thing on Monday morning to congratulate him. But there was still one person she could call...

"Hello, Sue? It's Gill. Is the news about Bombardier Walker general knowledge yet?"

"_Gilly_!" Sue's squeal of joyful recognition was enough to make Gill wince and hastily pull the 'phone away from her ear, "_Lovely to hear from you so soon! Yes, the Bombardier's award was published on Part One Orders Wednesday afternoon, just after Colonel Mike told him about the award!_" Sue giggled, "_Poor __Bombardier Walker, he positively tottered out of Tony Latham's office, absolute shell shock!_"

"Well, he deserves it, Sue!" Gill told her friend in an uncompromising tone of voice.

"_God yes! Absolutely no argument there! But the expression on his face was just so funny, and he was absolutely lost for words..._"

"Yes, I suppose it could have been," Gill replied, "but damn, I would love to have witnessed Johnny Walker lost for words!"

"_Not a usual occurrence, then, I take it?_" Sue asked.

"Never been known to happen before!" Gill grinned.

"_Oh well... but tell me, how's the new job? How are you settling in at the Wood? Have you managed to ride out yet? And have you called your dishy Yankee sailor and told him you're in town and that you're available_? _And are you coming down on the twenty third for Bombardier Walker's presentation_?" Sue asked, and despite the miles separating them, Gill was certain she could see the mischievous grin on Sue's face.

Nevertheless, Gill drew a deep breath before she answered, "The new job is fine, we work in civvies, so until I get know who's who, it's a bit difficult to tell who I should be calling 'sir' and who should be calling me 'ma'am'. The Wood is fine, the accommodation is pretty much the same as in the regiment, and the chaps here are very nice, but awfully horsey, and the left section commander is Roberta Humphries, so I'm not the only female in the mess, but she's about the horsiest of them all, as well as being all jolly hockey sticks. No, I haven't had time to ride out yet, although I've had plenty of invitations." Gill mentally crossed her fingers as she took another deep breath and continued, "Now... let's get this straight once and for all, please,Sue. I have not called Captain Rabb. He is not my sailor, and I've told you before, I do not think he is particularly dishy. It is none of his business where I am, and I am definitely not available to him – or to anybody else! Got it? And yes, I am coming down for the parade, I wouldn't miss it for the world, especially as Colonel Mike has just been so kind as to send me a formal invitation. And when I do come down, you and I are going to have words on the subject of you harping on about Captain Rabb!"

"_Oh, I hear you, alright_," Sue conceded, "_But I still say that the lady doth protest too much_!"

"Oooh!" Gill's cry of frustration could probably have been heard in Tidworth, even without the 'phone.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx **

Harm settled back in his seat in the first class compartment of the 757. The airplane was at maximum capacity, and he wasn't at all surprised that the vast majority of the passengers were Americans, all, he supposed, like himself, heading stateside for the holiday weekend. Martinez had been compelled to use his cherished sky miles to upgrade to comfort economy class, but it had been his unashamed flirting with the pretty blonde check-in operator that had gotten him bumped up to first class.

He'd tried to watch the in-flight movie, but just couldn't get interested in the puerile plot and the poor direction and worse acting and had eventually given it up as a bad job, and removing his head phones he had closed his eyes and pretended to doze while he considered what his reception might be once he had landed at Dulles.

Given that it was going to be a seven hour flight and take-off had been at twenty hundred then he'd be landing at zero three hundred UK time, or allowing for the time difference at about twenty two hundred local, so he knew Bud would be there to meet him, he was, after all staying at the Roberts' for the weekend, but he expected that Harriet would have stayed at home with the children. It was going to be a vastly different reception from his previous arrivals at Dulles, this time there would be no Mac to greet him. With a grimace he tore his mind away from thoughts of Mac and found to his surprise that they were settling on Gill Shephard.

A wry grin crossed his face, what was with him and women in uniform, and not even naval uniform at that! Still, she was, apart from the uniform totally different from Mac. Once they had gotten over themselves and cleared up the misunderstanding she had proved to have a dry and somewhat self-deprecating sense of humour, although he still wasn't quite used to the apparently casual attitude she, and the other officers with whom he'd spoken, had to their profession, but at the same time went about their duties with a slick, smooth quiet competence that couldn't fail to impress. He'd also liked the way Colonel Mike had treated his officers and the way they had treated him. Again it was understated, without the formality, or even worse, the forced informality he had witnessed in so many O clubs on different stations both back home and on foreign stations.

Another grin crossed his face, this time of pure amusement as he tried to picture the effect on both parties if he could somehow magically transport Three Eight Regiment's officers en masse to say Norfolk Naval Station O Club, or Andrews Naval Facility O Cub. A slight chuckle shook his frame as he suddenly realised he was beginning to think like Hank Morgan. Mark Twain's famous time-travelling Connecticut Yankee, and began to wonder had he been acting in a like manner, and if so, then it was no surprise that Gill Shephard had been a little wary of him when they first met.

'Damn! Why do my thoughts keep circling back to Gill Shephard? - Well, she's attractive, smart, witty, amusing, fun... Yeah, but she's also ten or more years younger than me, she's an officer in a foreign army – some three rungs lower on the ladder too! And if the regs made it tough for Mac and I how would it be for Gill and I? Hold on, what's this Mac and I and Gill and I? I knew Mac for nine years, and I've only spoken to Gill once on the 'phone and then had only two days in her company. Crap, if after all that time Mac and I couldn't make it work... Gill... well...she's just a nodding acquaintance Rabb, that's all! Just put her out of your mind and suck it up. After all, she didn't even tell me she was being posted to London, and if she'd wanted to continue my acquaintance, and maybe deepen it to friendship she could have done. Although...'

In a moment of perversity he was grateful that his beginning to become gloomy thoughts were interrupted by the 'Ping' of the PA Speaker warning the passengers that they were beginning the descent to Dulles, along with the usual warnings about seat belts and seat position.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

It was the usual interminable delay as the passengers cleared baggage return and then Customs and Immigration, exacerbated in Harm's impatiently fretting mind by the grizzling of a tired and travel-weary toddler kept up way past his usual bed-time, but finally the Customs Officer, after subjecting it to intense scrutiny, handed him back his passport, with a brief, professional smile and a disinterested, "Welcome home, Mister Rabb."

The funny thing was, it didn't really feel like home now. He'd sold the lease on the two apartments near Union Station. So he had no 'home' in DC these days, and he had left La Jolla twenty three years ago, and although Trish and Frank were still there, it wasn't really his home any longer, either, so where was his home? He shrugged away the vaguely troubling thought as he saw Bud Roberts 's huge grin of welcome, and felt his own answering smile spread across his face, which turned into a huge grin of his own as he spied the slim figure clad in tan slacks and a crimson V-neck sweater standing next to Bud.

"Bud, good to see you again!" He grinned taking Bud's proffered hand and gripping it fiercely.

"Good to see you again, too, sir!" Bud enthused returning Harm's grip equally fiercely.

Harm dropped Bud's hand and turned to the other half of the reception committee, "It's good to see you again too, Jen. You're looking good."

"Thank you, sir," Jen replied, "Welcome back..." he voice trailed of as she saw Harm's hand extended towards her, "Sir... permission to hug the Captain?"

Harm blinked in surprise, it had seemed that the intimacy that had grown between them while they acted as joint guardians for Mattie had diminished with time and distance, especially when Jen had moved out of the apartment after the run in with her former friend Pia, and that woman's attempt to frame Jen for murder, and they had never been hugging types but he was totally unable to resist the appeal in Jen's deep brown eyes, "Permission granted, of course!" he replied, and was taken into a short, fierce embrace, and heard the whispered words in his ear, "Sir, it so good to see you again!"

Bud coughed in slight embarrassment. Thanks to Harriet he had become aware that the Petty Officer had a crush on his friend and mentor, but this was the only occasion he had seen any first-hand evidence of that crush. "Shall we get your bags loaded and be on our way, sir?" he asked. "A J pestered us both, uh... Harriet and me... to stay up to say hi to his favourite Godfather... and it's well past his regular bedtime, and maybe we'd..."

Bud's voice died off and he turned faintly pink with embarrassment as he became aware that Jen was biting her bottom lip and looking down at her feet in an effort to avoid laughing outright, while Harm was regarding him with a tolerant grin.

Bud managed a reluctant grin of his own, "Well... we don't want to stand here all night do we?"

Harm caught a sudden look between Bud and Jen, it was quick, only a flash, and it was surreptitious. 'They're up to something', but, "No we don't... especially as it's nearly zero four hundred by my body clock!"

"Then we definitely do need to get going, sir!" Jen grinned.

It was the work of a few minutes to cross the parking lot to the Roberts' minivan, load Harm's sea-bag and for all three to strap themselves in before Bud turned the key in the ignition and knocked the gear selector into 'drive'.

Harm nearly nodded off to sleep during the half hour or so it took to reach the Roberts' neo-colonial house in Alexandria, and it took a gentle shake from Jen to alert him to the fact that had arrived. With a sheepish grin, Harm shook himself awake, and declining Bud's offer to carry his sea-bag, he followed Bud and Jen into the house.

His entry into the family room was the signal for a sleepy blond tornado to burst into life as it hurled itself off the couch, straight at the visitor with an excited and happy scream of "Uncle Harm you came!"

Harm dropped his sea-bag and then dropped into a crouch, "Hiya champ!" he greeted his Godson with a hug as the six year old wound his arms around Harm's neck, "How ya doin'?"

A J kept his fingers laced together around the back of Harm's neck but leaned back at the full extent of his arms, his own blue eyes, 'so much like Harriet's!' locked on Harm's own, "I'm doing good, Uncle Harm," and then his grin grew even broader, if that were possible, "But I'm doing even better now that you're here!"

"Uh-huh, but you do know it's only for a short visit, don't you big guy?" Harm said gravely.

A J nodded, his expression becoming serious, "But mommy and daddy say you'll be home pern... pernantly... in a couple of years."

"Perm-anent-ly" Bud coached from the sidelines.

"Perm-anent-tly," AJ repeated obediently and then frowned, "Does that mean forever?"

"It does, A J, it does," Harm said, as he gently disengaged the child's arms from around his neck, "How about letting me up so I can say 'hi' to your mommy?"

"OK, " A J said laconically, "But we can talk more later, OK?"

"Sure thing!" Harm grinned, and standing he turned towards , "Hello Harriet, you're looking fine, real fine!"

Harriet blinked back tears of happiness, "Just a little fatter than I used to be," she observed, "But I swear you've lost weight, sir!"

"Harriet" Harm said in a voice full of reproof, but with a smile, "How many times..."

Harriet smiled through her tears, "Oh da... drat!" she corrected herself with a sidelong glance at her son, "Just force of habit, I guess, si... Oh! Harm!"

"Oh, come here," Harm grinned opening his arms and enfolding her in a hug she returned enthusiastically as she smiled up at him, "It's wonderful to see you here again, Harm!"

"It's wonderful to be here, Harriet!" Harm replied smiling warmly at her in return.

"Hey! Red light, Captain!" Bud said cheerfully, echoing his own words from his and Harriet's wedding day, "Besides, there's someone else you need to say hello to!"

"Don't tell me you've kept Jimmy up this la..." Harm began as he released Harriet and turned towards Bud, but then his words faded to silence as his jaw dropped open. For a moment he could hardly believe his eyes, and then as they filled with tears, he almost flew across the room and dropped to his knees, "Mattie!" he said brokenly.

"Hi, sailor," the teenager whispered, her own eyes overflowing, and reaching both arms towards him from her wheelchair, "How about lowering altitude?"

Harm leaned in close and wrapped his arms around her so tightly that she gave a little squeak of surprise. "Oh, da.., darn, I'm sorry squirt I didn't mean to hurt you!" he apologised.

"You didn't, just startled me a little," Mattie denied, and then the dam broke, "Oh Harm... no-one's called me that since you went to England!"

Harm couldn't say anything he just held her close while she sobbed, and let his own tears fall into her wild mane of copper curls.

He held her in silence, rocking backwards and forwards until the storm had passed, and releasing her he squatted back on his heels, and with a catch in his voice gently teased her, "So... I thought you'd be glad to see me... why all the tears?"

"You big galoot," she sniffled, "Of course I'm happy to see you! Ain't you learned the difference between sad tears and happy tears, yet?"

"I'm beginning to!" he agreed, pulling a handkerchief out of his pocket and handing it to her, before remembering and turning glared at Jennifer Coates and the Roberts, "You... you... all of you.. I'll... I'll... well, I'll think of something! This is one hell... heck of a surprise welcome home!"

Bud and Harriet just looked at each other and grinned, Harriet smiling through her tears, leaving it to an equally tearful but mistily smiling Jen Coates to explain.

"We... we were told by the doctors a couple of days ago, that depending on how Mattie did on her tests yesterday there was a chance, but only a chance that they would be discharging her from hospital today. We didn't want to tell you because we didn't want to get your hopes up only to be disappointed if it didn't happen. And then they didn't reach a decision until fifteen hundred today, by which time we figured you were already in the air..."

"Oh..." suddenly feeling very foolish, Harm got to his feet and smiling down at Mattie, said "Bravo Zulu squirt!"

Mattie grinned up at him, "Well, I gotta start making some progress if I want to pass the physical for the academy next year!"

"Hey, you'll do it Mats!" Jen chimed in.

"Darn straight I will!" Mattie confirmed with all her usual bravado, but Harriet noticed that she was still clinging tightly to Harm's hand.

"Come and sit down, si...uh... Harm," she said with an apologetic shrug, "Here, if you sit at this end of the couch, then Mattie can get her chair in beside you! I'll go and fix us all, except you, young man," she pointedly told AJ, "A mug of chocolate, but it's way past your bedtime! So off you go!"

"Before you do, though, Champ," Harm interrupted, "Did you know about Mattie?"

"Yes," A J replied solemnly, "But mommy said it had to be kept secret!"

"And you did too, didn't you!" Harriet exclaimed proudly, "But now, A J Roberts, it's bed-time!"

A J nodded and climbed down from the couch, he had been fighting his heavy eyes for some time now, but before he finally went, he turned to Harm, "You are still gonna be here in the morning, aren't you?"

"Sure am, buddy," Harm reassured the youngster, and reaching out his hand he gently ruffled A J's hair.

"Uh huh... 'night mommy, 'night Jen, 'night Mattie... night daddy... 'night Uncle Harm..."

A chorus of 'good nights' followed him as he made his weary way to the hall way and the stairs, where he was overtaken by Bud, "Come on big feller, I'll come and tuck you in!"

Harriet disappeared into the kitchen to make the promised hot chocolate, leaving Harm alone with his two girls, as he had long ago come to think of Mattie and Jen. "A bit like old times, this," he remarked as he smiled at both of them.

"M'mm," Mattie agreed as she rubbed her thumb over the back of Ham's hand and grinned up at him.

"Not quite the same, though, is it?" Jen said quietly from her armchair.

"Oh, how so?" Harm queried.

"Well, you're my boss now... so..." she shrugged, "that's gonna change things between us all."

"Jen, you're kinda like my big sister, and that is never gonna change, so you – you and Harm are just gonna have to work out how I get to keep you both in my life! Harm, you have no idea just how much Jen being here for me meant when you weren't..."

"Oh, squirt, squirt, you have no idea how much I wanted to be here for you... but the Navy..."

"You mean that mean General!" Mattie nearly spat, "I thought when you got a new boss things might be a bit better for you, but he's a bigger hard-ass than that mean, bald old jerk that was there before him!"

"Mattie Grace! Language!"

"Can't help it," she huffed, "just the thought of him gets me so mad. I mean how would he like it if it was his precious Cammie that was paralysed and in hospital?" Mattie demanded aggressively.

"Probably not a lot," Harm was compelled to admit, and shot a glare across the room at Jen who desperately trying not to burst out laughing at Mattie's forthright manner of expressing her feelings, "You are not helping, Jennifer Coates!" he accused her.

"Oh... it's the look on your face," she finally gave in to her giggles, "Priceless! Absolutely priceless!"


	11. Chapter 11

**11**

Harm awoke slowly, reluctantly even. By his body clock's reckoning, it had been well into the early hours of the morning by the time he had gotten to bed, and although it was still quiet in the house the sunlight peeping around the edges of the heavy drapes told him that it was time to get up and out of bed.

Remembering to wrap himself in the bathrobe – one of Bud's he suspected – that Harriet had pressed on him before he went to bed, he left his room and made his way across the landing to the second bathroom, where he rapped gently on the door and waited for a non-forthcoming answer before he tried the handle.

Fifteen minutes later showered, shaved and dressed he quit his bedroom for a second time and made his way downstairs. At the foot of the stairs he hesitated looking at the door on his right which led to what had been Bud's den cum study, but had now been turned into a temporary bedroom for Mattie.

A swift grin for remembrance sake passed over his face as he knocked and called out, as he used to do back at the loft apartment, "Man on deck!"

The reply came in the form of a muffled shriek and then a hasty "Wait!"

Harm grinned and waited patiently for about thirty seconds before a somewhat calmer "OK, you can come in now!" reached his ears. Opening the door he was greeted by Mattie in her wheelchair, in one of her favourite sweaters, a nubbly yellow, orange and red thing which clashed horribly with her hair, a plaid car blanket neatly draped over her legs and her sock-clad feet peeping out from its bottom edge. Jennifer Coates looking up from where she was just finishing tidying Mattie's bed – a fully equipped hospital type bed, which he could only assume the Roberts had on rental – was clad in a pair of faded grey jogging bottoms with "Navy" printed in dark blue lettering down the right thigh and a faded blue, almost grey, "Raptors" squadron sweat shirt. Harm's eyebrow arched but he held his peace for the moment, "Good morning ladies,"

"Hiya, Harm!"

"Good morning, sir!"

Harm looked around the room, in addition to Mattie's bed, complete with a hanging trapeze to help her sir up while she was in bed, Bud's treasured large-screen television with its associated DVD recorder/player and audio system were still in place, as was his computer, there was also a folding canvas cot, presently made up with sheets and a comforter that he guessed was where Jen had spent the night. He grinned as he took in the overall tidiness of the room; it looked as if Jen's training was paying off. He certainly didn't remember Mattie's room at the loft being so neat and squared away. But the of course, she's only been in residence here less than twenty-four hours and hadn't had the chance to make it untidy!

Finishing his perusal of the room he turned his eyes back to the two young women's noting that their hair showed signs of not being completely dry, something that Mattie had impressed upon months ago was of the utmost importance. "Ah, you're not quite ready yet, are you ladies? What say I go and see if I can whip up some breakfast for all of us while you two finish getting yourselves ready to face the rest of the world?"

Jen grinned, "Sounds like a plan, the only thing is…"

"Yes?" Harm inquired mildly.

"I'll bet Lieutenant Sims is already in the kitchen, and won't take kindly to you interfering!" Jen twinkled.

"Ah…" Harm felt the blood rise to his face, "Yeah, you're probably right, but here's the thing, I've gotten so used to living on my own the last couple of months, that I kinda forgot about…" he waved a vague hand around, "things…"

"All on your own, Harm?" Mattie asked innocently.

"Yeah. All on my own!" Harm affirmed.

"Really?" Mattie asked sceptically, but with a teasing light in her eye.

"Mattie!" Jennifer interrupted with a shocked gasp and a sternly reproving look.

"Oh… a little too much?" Mattie asked in a crestfallen voice.

"A little," Harm agreed affably, "But yeah, really, all on my own!"

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

At just about the same time as Harm was saying 'Good morning' to his girls, Julia Martinez turned her rented Nissan Micra into the Red Lion's parking lot 'that's car park, Martinez,' she told herself with a shadow of a grin, and getting out of the small vehicle she grabbed her overnight bag and looking around nodded as she saw the door marked 'Reception'.

"Good morning, I'm Julia Martinez, I' meeting with a Mister Walker…" she offered to the duty receptionist.

"Oh, Miss Martinez, we've been expecting you! Your room is ready; I'll just check you in…" The young women tapped a few keys on her computer keyboard and handed Julia her key-card. "You're in room fourteen, that's on the first floor – oh, sorry, second flooring for you… Can I get someone to carry your luggage?"

"No, that's fine, thank you, I can manage… Can you tell me where Mister Walker is?"

"Oh… no… I haven't seen him since breakfast…"

Julia found the room without difficulty and using the key card let her in and stopped and gasped… The bed was huge, a solid wooden construction that glowed in the sunlight streaming in through the window and was impressive in its own right. But what had caught Julia's eye was the arrangement of orchids that stood on the dresser. The flowers almost overflowed the basket that contained them, and which also supported a white envelope. Julia crossed the room, dropping her sea-bag at the foot of the bed as she did so, and picked up the envelope that was addressed to _'Julia'_.

Slipping her finger under the flap, she tore the envelope open, her half-smile broadening into a grin as she read the short note.

"_Hi Beautiful. Welcome to Salisbury. Call me when you read this!_

_J_

_xxxxx_"

Julia sat on the edge of the bed and fished her cell 'phone out of her purse. The number dialled, she waited for the answer,

"_Hi, Julia_?"

"Hey, Johnny, yeah it's me… I'm here…"

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Gill eased herself down into the steaming hot water with a satisfied groan. She had finally accepted an invitation to ride out from Norman Barrington, the Centre Section Commander, and now, as she had known she would, was paying for it in terms of outraged and long unused muscles. She could only hope that the therapeutic properties of steaming hot water and essential oils would prevent her from stiffening up too much. The one consolation she had was that she and Roberta were the only two female officers currently in residence at the Wood, and this bathroom had been set aside for their use only. Roberta, with a quick grin of sympathy had been in and out of the shower in a matter of minutes, stopping to poke her head around the door to Gill's room to say, "The bathroom's all yours, Gill! Take as long as you want, I shan't be back until dinner!"

"Thanks, Bobbie," Gill replied, "If I'm not out by then, you'll probably have to come and help me out of the bath!"

The hot water was helping, Gill decided, although it was getting a little cooler. She dithered for a moment between adding more hot water to the tub or finally getting out, getting dried and into something casual before dressing for dinner. A look at her prune-like fingers was the deciding factor, telling her that she had probably spent too much time in the bath as it was, so with a sigh, she heaved herself out of the water and pulled the plug. Drying herself while water drained, she slipped on her bathrobe, and with a slight effort – those muscles were beginning to stiffen up, despite the long hot soak – she grabbed hold of the bottle of cream cleaner and a couple of 'J' Cloths and knelt at the side of the bath to clean it.

Ten minutes later found her in a pair of pyjama bottoms and a T-shirt, sitting with her feet curled up beneath her in the chair in her bedroom tying to interest herself in a very old, very battered paperback edition of one of Desmond Bagley's blood and thunder style action novels. Trying not to burst out laughing as she came across the author's mistakes in trying to depict the military, she had just about decided to re-categorise the genre as Thud and Blunder when a knock at the door broke her concentration.

"Yes, who is it?" she called out cautiously. Yes, she was in the Officers' Mess and it was broad daylight, still there was no harm in being careful.

"Open the door! Or I'll huff and I'll puff and I'll…"

But Gill was across the room and flinging the door open before the well-known voice could finish the sentence, "Sue! What on earth?"

"Am I doing here?" Sue finished for her with a gurgle of laughter, as she stepped into the room "I've come up to Town for the day, and seeing that you're here, I thought I might as well drop in and see that you were making the most of your opportunities!" She paused and sent a mock frown in Gill's direction, "Which I see you are not!"

"Or maybe I'm just hoarding my strength before a wild night out on the town?" Gill suggested.

"Really?" Sue asked excitedly, but then taking in Gill's little smile, she let her shoulders droop dramatically. "Oh no you're not! You're probably just going to curl up with some terrible – hah!" she finished triumphantly as she pointed an accusing figure at the tattered paperback that Gill had thrown onto the bed once she'd heard Sue's voice at the door.

Sue had dropped her collection of carrier bags, some of which bore the names and logos of some of London's finest – and most expensive – stores, on Gill' bed and stood, hands on hips as she contemplated Gill's attire. "Well that's no good!" she tutted and turning to the wardrobe, she threw the doors open and critically regarded the clothes hanging neatly inside.

"No… no… h'mm… maybe," a second's pause for thought and then ."No! Let's see…"

Gill had collapsed back into her chair and was shaking her head in indulgent amusement at her friend's antics, "You can 'no' and 'maybe' to your heart's content Susan Marshall, but you're on to a hiding to nothing!"

"Oh, and why, pray, should that be?" Sue asked archly.

"Because I have absolutely no intention of going out on the razzle tonight!"

"What?" Sue said indignantly, "After I've made all this effort to get here and prevent you from sinking into a nun-like life of… of… deprivation!"

Gill just chuckled and shook her head, "Did you ever think that I might just be saving myself?" she asked.

"For what?" Sue demanded, "or should that be for whom?"

"Well… it might be that dishy Yankee Captain…" Gill suggested.

"Oooh! I knew it!" Sue squealed, "I knew you couldn't be as blind as…" then she became aware that her friend was helplessly shaking with laughter. "Oh! That is just not fair, Gillian Anne Shephard!" she said.

"Oh, God, don't call me that!" Gill begged through her laughter, "You sound just like my mother!"

"Well! You shouldn't wind me up like that!" She complained as she plumped down on the end of Gill's bed.

"But you're such a tempting target!" Gill grinned, "And you bite so quickly!"

"H'mph!" Sue snorted.

"I tell you what," Gill suggested, "To make it up to you, let's go out for dinner this evening. Not on the razzle but a quiet dinner and a glass or two of wine?"

"H'mm… sounds good to me," Sue conceded, "Anywhere special in mind?"

"There's a place a couple of streets away – no more than five minutes' walk – where I'm told the steaks are out of this world…?"

"Well… OK… but the wine's on you!" Sue agreed.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Harm pushed his chair back from the breakfast table, "Thanks, Harriet, good pancakes! But then again, you always did have a light hand with baked goods!"

The grin he wore on his face wasn't occasioned simply by the food at breakfast. It had been a totally new experience for him. The kitchen table had been a trifle cramped with himself, Bud, Harriett, Jen, Mattie and the four young Roberts all vying for elbow space. Of course the twins hadn't really been a problem, securely strapped into their high chairs as they were, but AJ and Jimmy with flying elbows and excited chatter more than made up for their younger siblings. So, noisily chaotic it might have been, but it had been a cheerful noisiness that a quietly spoken "AJ, Jimmy!" from Bud had reined in it on a couple of occasions when it seemed as if the mood might get out of hand.

Harm grinned at the two elder children, neither had mastered the knack of eating pancakes without smearing copious amounts of maple syrup on themselves, and Harriet following his line of sight sighed and said, "OK, you two – with me! Bud… can you make a start on the dishes!"

"Leave 'em, Bud. The girls and I can handle this, right girls?" he asked looking at Mattie and Jen.

"Sure, you wash, I'll dry and Jen can put everything away – she's such a neat freak, you know," she added an aside to Harm, "I don't remember her being this bad when we were roomies!"

"Hey! I heard that!" a grinning Jen protested.

"You were supposed to!" an entirely unrepentant Mattie grinned up at her.

With three pairs of hands the clearing up – and the cleaning down – of the kitchen took no time at all, and by the time Harriet and two remarkably clean small boys returned from their trip to the bathroom, Harm, Jen an Mattie had joined Bud on the sun deck overlooking the back yard.

"Oh… I don't know why I bother!" Harriet groaned as she settled herself into one of the garden chairs clustered around the table.

"Oh, why?" Harm queried in some surprise.

"Just look at 'em!" Harriet said as her two sons made a bee-line for the sand box, "I'll give 'em… oh… say, ten minutes before they'll look like that hadn't seen soap and water for a month!"

"And another twenty minutes on top of that before they'll be back wanting something to drink!" Bud grinned.

"Don't you dare encourage them, Bud Roberts! I just hope they'll have grown out of this phase before the twins grow into it!" Harriet said with a glare at her husband.

Bud looked at her consideringly, "What you need is a good…" he paused for effect, waiting until Harriet's eyes grew large and round and her mouth opened to deliver a blistering rebuke, "cup of coffee!" he finished with a grin.

"Bud Roberts!" a now furiously blushing Harriet exclaimed in protest.

"That's a pretty good idea, ma'am," Jen said standing up, "I'll put the coffee on, but then by your leave, sir," she turned to Harm, "I've got a couple of errands to run and I need to finish packing for Wednesday!"

"Wednesday, Jen?" Harm queried.

"Yes, sir! Got my movement orders all signed and sealed. I report to MCCP at Andrews on Wednesday for an AMC flight to RAF Station Lakenheath. Is that near London, sir?"

"Um… I'm not sure, Jen, but we'll get Bud to check it out for you. That OK, Bud?"

"Yeah, sure, if Mattie doesn't mind me trespassing into her domain?" Bud asked, making to get up from his chair.

"Oh, no, sir!"! Jen protested, "I've got my lap top, and if you don't mind me piggy backing on your wi-fi signal, I can check it out myself?"

"No… go ahead Jen; I've got an unlimited bandwidth deal with my provider, so use it all you want!"

Jen nodded, "Thanks, sir!" And then turned back to Harm, "One thing I don't understand is why we have to fly into an RAF Station, aren't there any US bases over there anymore?"

"Uh… yeah…" Harm rummaged in his memory for pertinent facts from his in-briefing, "Lakenheath is, in fact, a USAF Station, but during the cold war the Air Force kept their British titles for their bases to try and fool the Soviets, and the names have stuck ever since."

"Thanks, sir, that helps…" Jen gave a smile, in which Harm thought he detected a touch of relief, and turning away from the group disappeared into the kitchen

"So… sir… uh… Harm, sorry…" Harriet smiled apologetically, "How are things in England?"

"Well workwise, there's plenty to do, and of course I'm still reading myself in. If I had one real complaint it's that base housing is quite a trek in and out of the office, it's only about fourteen maybe fifteen miles each way, but it can take up to an hour in bad traffic. Fortunately, I don't have to try and drive myself; I've got a driver for that!"

"You don't drive, sir?" Bud asked in disbelief. 'The Commander, no, Captain now, had always been a keen driver, he's never really been happier than when he's got his corvette – well, never happier on the ground, he loves flying his Stearman, and the whole world knows about his love affair with Tomcats!'

Harriet gasped, "But if you don't drive, Harm, how do you get out and about in the evenings?"

"The short answer to that Harriet, is that I don't. I work late on average three days a week. Don't forget, I'm still trying to read myself in. Other evenings by the time I get home, I'm too tired for anything other than a light meal an early shower and then bed. Especially if traffic on the way home is bad! And it can be – trust me – if you think the Beltway is bad, you want to try the M25 – that's the London equivalent! My driver once described it as the only six lane parking lot in the world!"

"Ouch!" Bud grimaced in sympathy, but Harriet sat with a frown on her forehead.

"Sir – Harm, that's not good. You need to get out. There's got to be more to life than eat, work and sleep!"

"Oh, there is… Last week I was detailed to attend a British Army Artillery firepower demonstration about one hundred miles from London. Two days of feeling the ground shaking beneath my feet and having my ears battered! Still, my driver seemed to enjoy herself. If I'm not mistaken, she's got a date with Captain Shephard's driver for this weekend!"

"Captain Shephard, sir?" Bud asked.

"Oh, yes. Captain Shephard… she was my host officer for the two days…" Harm allowed his voice to trail off as a soft smile curved his lips and for a few seconds he appeared to be contemplating something in the far distance.

Mattie's eyebrows shot to the top of her forehead and she exchanged a significant look with Harriet.

Bud looked puzzled, and glanced at his wife for some sort of clue, but all he received was a patronising smile and a slight shake of her blonde head.

"Coffee's ready!" The introspective mood was broken as Jen returned from the kitchen, carrying a tray on which sat the coffee pot, mugs, sugar and creamer. She picked up almost instantly on the mood and glanced quickly at Mattie, but received on a puzzled smile and a shrug in return.

"So…" Harriet resumed the conversation after coffees had been handed around, "Apart from baptisms of fire, what's the London Office like?"

"Well it's not as big an organisation as JAG HQ, naturally," Harm said, swallowing a sip of his drink, "And it's not full manned yet, either. But my Legalman arrives next week," he winked at Jen, "and after this week's startling disclosure, a fair amount of peace and tranquillity should prevail! Well… at least a greater amount than before!"

"What the goodness do you mean, Harm?" an intrigued Harriet asked.

Harm grinned and sat back in his chair, "Well… I've got these two hot-shot attorneys who couldn't decide whether they loved or hated each other. Tierney and Sullivan, or 'Trouble and Strife' as they are known around the office, although that might be changing soon…"

By the time he's finished relating the stormy relationship between the two fighting Irish, Bud was grinning too, as was Mattie. Harriet had a half smile on her face, 'I wonder if he realised he could just as well have been talking about himself and Mac – as they were five or six years ago!'

But Jen looked slightly troubled, and it was with an effort that she mustered up a smile, "Well, at least that's one problem less to deal with, sir. I'll just gather up this stuff and then, unless you have anything else for me, I'll get back to the apartment and get on with…"

"No, Jennifer!" Harriet interrupted, "You've done quite enough around here today… Go on, you skedaddle! But make sure you're back in time for dinner at nineteen hundred!"

"Aye, aye, ma'am!" Jennifer grinned, and ducked back indoors before Harriet could reprimand her for her slip.

"That girl!" the blonde former officer said fondly, shaking her head.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Jen hadn't been gone more than ten minutes or so, before a large hand appeared over the top of the yard gate to fumble for and release the catch, allowing the gate to open to reveal the figure of Admiral A J Chegwidden USN (Retired), dressed comfortably in well washed faded jeans and a black T-shirt worn under an equally faded jean jacket.

His appearance was the signal for an excited scream from his juvenile namesake, who tore across the yard towards him screaming "Uncle Admiral!"

The next few minutes were spent in an exchange of greetings and AJ squatting down to inform an inclined to be disappointed Jimmy Roberts, that "No, I didn't bring Damage with me today. I know I got my blue jeans on, but I got to do some work with Uncle Harm. But I tell you what; she'll be with me for the picnic – OK!"

"When the picnic?" Jimmy demanded with a pout.

"The day after tomorrow," A J explained with a degree of patience he never shown any of his subordinates, that means you have to go to bed tonight, and then again the next night, and then when you wake up, it'll be time for the picnic!"

"OK." the little boy said solemnly, "Day… after… 'morrow?" he asked in confirmation.

"That's a promised, Tiger!" the former SeAL grinned, straightening up and turning towards the sun deck.

Harm and Bud instinctively rose to their feet as their former CO stepped up onto the deck.

AJ grinned and nodded "Bud… you're looking good! Hello Harm, how are you doing? And sit down, the pair of you!""

"I'm doing pretty good Admiral, and you?" Harm replied, taking AJ's offered hand in a firm grip.

"I'm fine, son… and… drop the 'Admiral' and 'sir' cra… uh… stuff!" he hastily corrected himself with a guilty look at Mattie and Harriet, "Remember, I'm not in your Navy anymore!" he redirected his attention back to Harm.

Harm felt the tips of ears burn red as he recalled exactly, when, where and most especially exactly how he had said those self-same words to the older man, "Um… yeah… I'm… uh… sorry about that…" he began.

Chegwidden waved off Harm's attempted apology, "It's all water under the bridge, now Harm; we both said a lot of stuff about that time that we didn't necessarily mean! Now… was that Jennifer Coates I just saw peeling out of here?"

"Uh… yeah, I guess…" Harm agreed, "She's got a couple of chores to do, but she said she'll be back for dinner…"

"Yep, thought I recognised that wreck she drives! Burning a hell of a lot of oil these days! Now, Bud, I need to speak with Harm and Mattie about the adoption appeal, can you let us have a room, please?"

"The formal dining room?" Harriet suggested, "We don't use it much these days, not with the children… it's easier to clean up the mess if it's the kitchen!" she finished with grin.

"Thank you, Harriet," AJ replied and turning to Mattie said, "Would you care to lead the way, Miss Grace?"

"Thank you, Mister Chegwidden!" Mattie replied with a grin, "If you'll follow me, gentlemen?" and she turned her wheelchair on the spot.

Harriet waited until the three had crossed the kitchen and closed the dining room door behind them before she turned to her husband. "Did you see the look on the Comm… uh… the Captain's… Oh, drat! I mean on Harm's face while he was talking about that British Officer?" she asked him.

"Huh? He hardly mentioned her!" Bud objected, fidgeting uneasily in chair, "And don't you either!" he warned his wife, "You know that Harm isn't comfortable talking about feelings, and I'm not comfortable when you try to get involved in his personal life. Look at all those years you invested in trying to foster his relationship with Colonel MacKenzie, and look what came of that!"

Not for the first time Harriet Roberts wondered at her husband's capacity for obliviousness, to her, Harm's reticence in connection with the British Officer was a huge beacon lighting up the sky, but no, not for Bud.

Harriet's shoulders slumped slightly as she pondered what had caused what at the time seemed to have been just another bump in the road, but what was now taking on the appearance of a final and irrevocable rift between the two former partners. "I wonder what did happen between those two in the end! Mac won't say…"

"No, and it's a damn' sure thing that he won't say anything either!" Bud said forcefully.

"True," Harriet agreed mournfully, and then taking a deep breath, she squared her shoulders, "Are you just going to sit there all day, Bud Roberts, or are you going to shift your six and give me a hand with lunch?"

"Oh… I thought I'd just sit here and let you fix lunch," Bud replied nonchalantly.

"Bud Roberts!" Harriet exploded indignantly

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Gill cautioned her friend, "Nothing too girly! We're going to dinner and then we're coming back here. I am not going to spend the night visiting half a dozen clubs just so you can find the one with just the right 'ambiance'!"

"Sometimes you take all the fun out of life!" Sue complained as she stepped out from behind the wardrobe door, "There how's that?" she demanded as she performed a twirl.

"It'll do, I suppose!" Gill conceded as she regarded her friend's trouser suit and cream blouse.

"It'll do?" Sue asked incredulously, "Gill, do you have any idea how much exquisite tailoring like this costs?"

"No, I don't, and I don't want to know!" Gill answered with a grin, "but yes, it'll do!"

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

"Oh… wow!" Johnny Walker almost leaped to his feet as Julia entered the resident's lounge, "You look fantastic!" he said enthusiastically.

"What, this old rag?" Julia asked demurely, but with a twinkle in her eye. It was true; she'd had the wine red silk dress for nearly a year now, but had only worn it on a couple of occasions. It was sleeveless, but with two-finger-wide straps and a fitted bodice with a modest square-cut neckline that clung to her body down to her hips from where it floated in a confusion of folds down to her knees. She had left her hair loose and it fell in a soft, wavy, shining curtain that framed her face and rested gently on her shoulders. In her hand she carried a black lace mantilla which she had pressed into service as a wrap if the evening should turn chilly, and the neat black pumps gave her an extra inch or so of height.

Johnny shook his head, glad that he'd decided in favour of his dark suit so that he wouldn't embarrass Julia by being shabbily dressed.

"If that's just an old rag," he told her, "I can't wait to see what you look like when you're all dressed up!"

Julia flushed pink with pleasure, and her heightened colour with her shining eyes just added to the assault her appearance was wreaking on Johnny's senses. "Umm… shall we go in?" he asked, nodding in the direction of the dining room.

"That would be nice," Julia agreed softly, and then with a grin she confided to him, "I'm starving!"

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Harm's head was reeling; the session with AJ had been intense, broken only by a brief interruption for lunch, taken with all the chaos of breakfast time in the kitchen, and then a return to the dining room.

AJ went over the Judge's reasoning behind her refusal to permit Harm to adopt Mattie and while Harm formulated a rebuttal to each point in turn, AJ made notes of what he said and turned them into counter-arguments.

On the matter of suitable accommodation for a teenaged girl, Harm had taken the precaution of bringing with him photographs of the O-6 Base House which he had been allocated, along with notations as to room dimensions and ease of wheelchair access, pointing out that British houses rarely had the raised porches that were so typical of American designed dwellings, and that a simple ramp could be installed at both front and rear entrances while they were need.

"Not for long!" Mattie interrupted determinedly, "I'm going to be out of this damned contraption by Christmas at the latest!"

Both men grinned in approval of the girl's spirit, and Harm reached across to ruffle her curls, "That's the stuff squirt!

AJ coughed, drawing Harm's attention back to the matter at hand, "There are just two more points for rebuttal in Judge Smith's summation," and he fixed his dark eye on Harm, "First there's the matter of you flying fast jets…"

"Well… I'll tell you AJ, I'm thinking of giving up my flight status…"

"Harm! No!" Mattie interjected fiercely.

"Think about it squirt… I'm forty-two coming on forty-three and my reflexes are slowing down. Flying fast jets is a young man's game… If I keep going back into the air, not only will I deserve my old 'Pappy' call-sign, but there's an ever-increasing risk that something might go wrong and that I won't be quick enough to react to it. Besides, I'm in command over there, I have extra responsibilities, I can't just drop everything and scoot off to a carrier for two or three days just to keep my hand in. And anyway, I doubt that the Navy will be happy for me to play with their jets for much longer. I know Admiral Taylor won't be keen on the idea!"

"Who he?" Mattie demanded.

"He's the USN attaché to the Embassy in London, and as the highest ranking officer on station, he's the guy who has the final say-so as to what I can and can't do." Harm paused to reflect on that last sentence, "Except, of course, unless it's a JAG matter, and then it's General Cresswell!"

"Well… Taylor you say?" AJ asked, diverted for the moment from the business at hand. "Is that JJ Taylor the Third, Old Lardasss Taylor – oops! Sorry Mattie!"

"Yep! The very one!" Harm agreed.

"Well, I'll be…" AJ breathed and then shook his head, "Let's get back to business. The last point is the only one you can't rebut, Harm. Judge Smith doesn't like it that you're single."

Harm sighed, "Yeah, well, when I petitioned for adoption, I'd hoped that my bachelor days were numbered. I guess you could call it a triumph of optimism over experience!" he added with a tinge of bitterness in his tone.

"Mac?" AJ asked.

"Yeah, Mac!" Harm agreed.

"What happened there, son?" AJ asked gently.

Harm fought his words past the lump in his throat, "Turned out in the end she didn't love me." He said flatly. He then seemed to realise how much he had revealed and with what might have been a muffled obscenity, he pushed his chair back from the table and stalked out of the room. Seconds later the front door banged.

Former Admiral and teenaged girl stared at the door for long moments before they looked back at each other.

"Well!" Mattie puffed.

"Yeah!" AJ nodded in agreement.


	12. Chapter 12

**12**

A J Chegwidden sighed, and began to push his chair away from the table.

"What are you doing?" Mattie asked anxiously.

"To try to talk some sense into him and get him back here so we can finish off preparing for the appeal!" A J retorted.

Mattie considered the former Admiral through half-closed eyes. "Nuh-huh, best let me handle this!" she declared. "He's gonna need a friend, not an Admiral to get through to him."

A J allowed himself a tight grin, "Mattie, I hope I am his friend, and you keep forgetting, I'm no longer an Admiral!"

"Hell, _I_ don't need telling that!" Mattie replied, "But how long were you his boss? Ten years? Do you really think he doesn't still see you with stars on your shoulder? No matter how many times you tell him to call you A J? Even today, think back, how many times has he actually called you that. And how many times has he called you, or nearly called you 'sir' or Admiral'?"

AJ sat and thought for a few moments. Mattie was right, Harm did still slip up and address him by rank or as 'sir'. Maybe the younger man did, despite A J's protests, still see him in uniform. He shook his head.

"Yeah, you may be right, Mattie," he said reluctantly, and then in lighter one added, "You know, you're pretty damn' smart!"

"Yeah, I know! But it took you long enough to figure it out!" Mattie grinned as she spun her chair towards the door.

A J chuckled despite himself, "G'wan, git!" he told her. He sat back and watched as she negotiated the door and the tricky turn into the hallway before he sat back and chuckled again, "She'll do!" he told the empty room.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Harm stopped on the porch, just to the left of the centre set of steps leading down to the drive. He grasped the rail, leaning on it, as he shook his head, wondering what the hell had got into him that he would let that much emotion show in front of Mattie, and even worse in front of the Admiral.

He didn't realise it, but the Admiral's accusation all those months ago that he was 'completely ruled'; by his emotions had cut deep and as a consequence he retreated behind walls even thicker and higher than before, more determined than ever not to show weakness.

That stoicism had served him well while he was flying for the CIA, the only person he had allowed himself to become anywhere near friendly with was Beth O'Neill, and that friendship was the sort of casual friendship between workmates who had a shared background, in their case Naval aviation.

It had taken Mattie to breach those walls. She had not only offered him unconditional love, but she had shown him how important it was that not only did he love, but to show those about whom he cared that he did care, that he did love.

Then as his walls crumbled under Mattie's loving assault had come the double hammer blows of her accident and Mac's repudiation of his, their, love. The temporary isolation he was forced into in London, and the necessary distance he had to keep between himself as Commanding Officer and his staff had only caused him to retreat behind his walls and to begin to rebuild them, higher, thicker and stronger than ever before. It was strange he thought, that since he had left Falls Church the only sense of companionship he had felt with anyone was with the British Captain, Gill Shephard, but it was only after a beginning marred by mutual misunderstanding and antagonism that he had warmed to her and she had managed to knock a small chip out of his defences.

And now a simple mention of Mac had brought a portion of those walls crashing down, revealing, or so he felt, the hurt he nursed to all and sundry.

The sound of the door behind him opening caused him to turn his head, to see Mattie manoeuvring her chair through the opening. He forced a smile on to his face, "Want a hand with that, Squirt?"

Mattie didn't answer for a second as she concentrated on getting the chair through the door, which was only just wide enough, but her task accomplished she stopped and grinned up at him, "Nah... I've got it covered!"

"Yeah, you do, don't you?" he asked, his smile fading.

Mattie made a leap of understanding, and wheeled herself forward until she was alongside him. Her own grin faded to a mere shadow as she looked up into his eyes, "Hey, I might not have needed you to help me get through that door, Harm. But I sure as hell am going to need you to help me get through rehab and back on my feet. But, here's the thing.,.. I don't want to use up your help on the little things, just in case it runs out when I really, really, do need it for the big things!"

Harm dropped to one knee and taking both of Mattie's hands in one of his own he looked at her earnestly, "That is never going to happen, Squirt. If you ever need my help, today, tomorrow, ten years down the pike, I swear it'll be there!"

"Yeah, I know," she agreed softly, "And Harm... I will need your help, and your support and... and your... and your love..." she finished shyly.

"Ah, that..." Harm cleared his throat, "You've already got that Mats, for ever and a day!"

"Yeah... I know..." Mattie said still shyly and looking straight back at him said more firmly, "And you've got all my love too!"

"Yeah, I know that!" Harm said forcefully, and then in a lighter tone, "Well, at least until you find a man to share your life and love with."

"Not going to happen, sailor! If I ever find a man to love, then I'll have to drum up some more love from somewhere for him!"

For some reason he couldn't fathom Harm was deeply touched by the implication that Mattie could find enough love in her heart for him and for her eventual husband, and kids too he supposed. But he could take a lesson from her, maybe he could still find it in himself to love another woman than Mac.

He nodded, "OK, Mats... "

"Good!" Mattie exclaimed and spun her chair away from him. "Now we've gotten rid of your fit of the sulks, shall we go indoors and join the grown-ups?" she grinned over her shoulder.

"Ouch!" Harm replied with a rueful grin of his own, "lead on, ma'am!"

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Julia woke up in the huge bed and stretched luxuriously, a smile of utter contentment spreading across her face as she recalled where she was and how she had spent the previous evening and night.

Dinner had been, if not superb, well cooked, well presented and the service had been good, even if she had found the lazy Wiltshire accent of their waitress a bit difficult to understand. Johnny had offered to order wine with the dinner, but on being asked, he'd preferred to stick to beer, and Julia had decided to go with him. She should have expected something of the sort when Johnny ordered their beers in a voice too quiet for her to hear and she's been taken aback when the waitress returned to their table with two brimming pints of bitter in what Johnny called 'knuckle pots' – a heavy, handled, glass with square segments on the outside that reminded Julia of an old type of hand grenade.

She had been about to protest that she couldn't drink out of a glass like that, but at the last second saw the gleam of challenge in Johnny's eye, and with a determined set to her chin, she'd lifted her glass and returned the challenge, "Cheers!"

The beer wasn't too bad – in fact it was pretty good – and to her relief Johnny didn't chase her to drink it any faster than she was comfortable with, and he didn't press her when her drink finished, she declined his offer of a refill.

After dinner, they had relaxed in the residents' lounge, side by side on one of the couches while they pretended to watch an old comedy on the TV, until Johnny had suggested that maybe they'd had enough for the night and ought to turn in.

Although he had booked separate rooms for them, Julia couldn't resist a slight feeling of nervousness as Johnny walked her to her room. He waited until she'd unlocked the door, and then leaned in for a kiss.

True to her word, Julia didn't present him with a moving target, and for a few seconds she felt the pressure of his lips on hers. Then he'd broken the kiss, smiled, and said, "Goodnight Julia, see you at breakfast."

"Yeah..." she had breathed.

Closing the door behind her, she leaned back against for a few seconds as she gently touched her lips, and then with a fond smile, she'd slipped out of her dress and gone into the bathroom.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

The legal briefing finished, A J gathered his notes and documents together and, refusing Harriet's invitation to stay for lunch, made his farewells to Harm, Mattie and the Roberts family. "Remember what I said," he said as he knelt on one knee to say goodbye to Jimmy, "About the picnic?"

"Yes..." but Jimmy's little face creased in thought for a long moment before he blossomed into a huge smile "Picnic is the day after 'morrow!" he declared, and then looked around totally bewildered as the grown-ups all burst into laughter.

Little A J was inclined to sulk as 'Uncle Admiral' left the party and it took Mattie's not wholly spurious interest in his huge and growing collection of toy airplanes to lure him out of the sullens.

Harm paused in the act of carrying a tray of plates and cutlery out to the table on the sun deck as Harriet remarked, approvingly, "She's good at that!"

"Keeping AJ entertained?" Harm queried, "Well you did hire her as a baby-sitter before... before she went back to Tom... maybe he remembers her from then..."

"Maybe," Harriet said dubiously, "But I was thinking how good she was with coaxing him out of the sulks."

Harm gave a bark of sardonic laughter, "Hell... she's had plenty of practice!" and seeing Harriet's puzzled look, explained more gently, "Coaxing me out of the sulks I mean!"

Harriet smiled in realisation that Harm had cracked a joke, but she gazed after him with a troubled look in her eye.

Lunch was as chaotic, if not more so than breakfast, and A J Roberts had decided that Mattie was now his bestest friend and would be happy nowhere else except sat next to her. Mattie had assured Harriet that it was no bother, the extra width of her chair she said gave her an adequate buffer zone, and kept her out of the range of inexpertly controlled young elbows.

Lunch was also a long, leisurely drawn-out affair. At least for the adults. The two young Roberts having finished their meal asked for permission to step down from the table to go play, long before the grown-ups were ready to end their meal.

The only slight upset came at that point, being A J's reaction when he begged Mattie to come play too, Bud saying severely, "No! Mattie hasn't finished eating yet. If she wants to, she'll come and play some more – after she's finished!"

For a moment it looked like A J's sulk were going to turn into a tantrum until Harriet leaned down towards him and warned him, "AJ, if you start acting out, then you'll go straight to your bedroom, and there you'll stay for a very, very long time out! Do you understand me?"

A J straightened and gulped, "Yes, ma'am!"

"Good. Now... Mattie will come and play with you again later, but only if she's not too tired!"

"Yes, ma'am!"

"Good! Dismissed!"

A J shot away just about as fast as his legs would carry him. Mommy didn't often use that voice on him, but when she did, he knew better than to argue.

Harm barely contained his smile as the little domestic scene played out, and Harriet catching the amusement in his eyes smiled ruefully. "I'm sorry you had to see that, Harm... and you Mattie..." her face clouded over, "It's our fault..." she indicated Bud and herself, "When baby Sarah..." she gulped, recovered and went on, "Anyway, after that, Bud and me, well we spoiled him I guess, and we didn't realise how badly we were doing as parents until that time he ran off... And I guess we're still having to try and rein him in from time to time."

Harriet took a sip of her lemonade before she continued, this time addressing her comments to Mattie, "And you mustn't indulge him too much either, Yes, I know you're very good with him, and I do appreciate you taking time to play with the boys, but they mustn't get into the habit of expecting you to be at their beck and call. And anyway, I doubt you'll need to this afternoon," she cast an eye at the remains of the meal on A J's and Jimmy's plates, "My guess is they'll play quietly enough for half an hour or so, and then they'll be quite happy to take a nap. Which is just as well!" she turned her blue eyes on Bud and Harm in turn, "Because after I've seen to the twins, we are all going to be busy in the kitchen preparing dinner for Monday's picnic!"

The two men looked at each, grinned, turned back towards Harriet, "Yes, ma'am!" they chorused.

"Ohh, men!" the tormented blonde exclaimed and then exchanged a look with Mattie, that left all four chuckling.

xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx

Harriet's prediction was almost uncannily accurate; before they had even finished cleaning up after lunch, Jimmy had curled up on the family room couch and A J, although he had an open story book on his lap, was alternately knuckling his eyes and nodding drowsily over the brightly coloured illustrations.

Bud smiled indulgently and with an apparent total lack of effort, bent and picked up Jimmy in his arms and carried him upstairs with barely the sign of a limp, while Harriet gently took the book from A J's hands and holding out her hand to him said quietly, "Come on, sailor, time to go aloft."

The boys safely bedded down, and the twins' diapers changed and then settled for their nap, a flush-faced and damply glowing Harriet blew a stray strand of hair out of her face and her hands planted on her hips turned to the rest of them, "OK, all hands to the kitchen,"she directed them, "and bustle about a bit, we have got a lot to do!"

Harm soon realised that she wasn't joking, as she deposited a large sack of black beans in front of him with instructions to "Pick 'em over, and separate out any bad ones!" while Bud was seated across the kitchen table with a sack of potatoes, a bucket of water and a sharp knife with instructions to "Get peeling, Bud!" The two men looked at each other helplessly, shrugged and got on with their appointed tasks, while Harriet and Mattie busied themselves at one of the kitchen's worktops with peeled fruit, flour and sugar.

They worked for a while in companionable quiet, exchanging desultory remarks while the contents of the sacks of beans and potatoes diminished, and that of the buckets grew fuller. At length Harm called out to Harriet, "Are you somehow combining the beans and potatoes?"

"No... the potatoes are for a potato salad, and the beans are going to make black beans and rice – only without the ham bone!"

"That's a new one to me," Harm admitted, "Is it anything like red beans and rice? I have had that."

"Well... similar..." Harriet admitted grudgingly, "but that's a Louisiana Creole dish, this is a Florida delicacy and of course is much tastier!"

"How's that? Aren't the two styles pretty much the same?" Harm asked.

"Of course not! Creole and Cajun cooking is OK, but they use much stronger, more fiery spices. Florida cooking uses hot spices too, but then we tend to blend them in with milder tasting herbs and spices too. We also concentrate on using fresh, local produce." Harriet sighed and dusted off her flour covered hands before she turned to look at Harm, "Of course, I can't get exactly what I want as fresh as I'd like it up here in DC, but what I can get is plenty good enough for preparation in advance for picnics and such. Now, how are you doing with those beans?"

"Pretty good, I reckon," Harm said, "Although, wouldn't it have been easier to use canned beans?"

"Harmon Rabb! What have I just said about using fresh ingredients?" a horrified Harriet gasped.

"Yes, ma'am, sorry ma'am!" a suitably abashed Harm said before lowering his gaze to concentrate once more on the task in hand so that only Bud saw the grin that twitched his former mentor's lips.

xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx

The smell of fresh baking was the first thing that struck Jennifer Coates when at just gone five that afternoon she let herself in at the Roberts' side gate.

"Jennifer! I was beginning to think that you were going to miss dinner! Hurry and wash up, I'm about to start serving!"

"We don't usually eat this early," she explained to Harm as she loaded his plate with her adaptation of his recipe for vegetable moussaka, "I want the boys to get used to family meals around a table, not stuck in front of the TV with plates on their knees. So we usually wait until Bud gets home, but sometimes he's so late that I have to give the boys a sandwich, and then by the time he gets home and we've had dinner there's nothing left of the evening, so at weekends we eat early and then both Bud and I get to have some quality time with them!"

"How are things at Falls Church, Bud?" Harm asked, as Harriet added what looked like Sloppy Joe sauce to everybody's except his plate and then Jen's as she shook her head and smiled 'no thanks'.

"They're...uh... different..." Bud said diplomatically, and then took a sip of water, before he cautiously fed a spoonful of pureed vegetables to Nikki in her high chair next to him.

Harm waited patiently, this was one of Bud's long time tactics, displacement activity instead of coming straight put with an answer; the move gave him time to choose his reply.

"Well... you've not been gone all that long, but there's been a lot of changes. Not so much among the support staff, although the General has brought in his own Admin Assistant, a Marine Sergeant." He looked across the table at Jen, "I've got to tell you, that I think that even if you had asked to stay at Falls Church, he would have moved you out into the bull pen and brought in Sergeant Brewer in any case; I don't think he had anything against you, I just get the feeling that he's more comfortable dealing with Marines. So don't feel like you've left him in the lurch!"

"So, Bud... if there hasn't been that much change in the support staff, I take it there's been a few changes to the attorneys' roster?"

"Yeah, with you, Commander Turner and the Colonel gone, he brought in two more Marine JAGs, and Commander Manetti has come back from the SecNav's office..."

"Sturgis has gone?" Harm asked in surprise.

"Umm... yeah... It seem like he didn't like it much when you got promoted.. and then the General warned him for a PCS to Naples as SJA to CINCNAVMED... which would have put him under your command. Well, take that and the separation from Miss Chesnut... so.. he … uh... resigned to become her manager and look after her legal affairs..."

Harm was surprised and saddened by the news, he couldn't put his finger on the when and why Sturgis had changed so much, he'd only realised it too late when his one-time friend had hurried _that_ investigation and then recommended that Harm face charges of negligent homicide... but for Sturgis Turner, the preacher's son, to give up his career. Harm shook his head... still at least he'd got his twenty in. so he would get a pension...

"Anything else I should know, Bud, before I put my foot in my mouth on Monday?"

"Uh... just that one of the Marine JAGs is Lieutenant Colonel McBurney..." Bud mumbled.

"What!?" Jen interrupted her cheeks flushing red.

"Are you all right Jennifer?" Harriet asked anxiously, while A J and Jimmy stared wide-eyed at the usually even tempered young woman. Even Harm was taken by surprise by her outburst, it had been so long that he had seen or heard Jen lose her temper that he'd almost forgotten how fiery she could be.

"Uh... yeah, yeah, I'm fine..." Jennifer choked out. She drew a deep breath, "The General actually brought that... that...slimy son of a..."

"Jen!" Bud, Harriet and Harm all chorused while Mattie desperately tried to stifle a giggle, the fulminating glance that Harm shot at her not helping at all.

Jen flushed red again, this time with embarrassment, "Sorry," she mumbled, her eyes fixed on her plate, and then raised them to meet Harriet's eyes, "It's just that I get so mad when anyone talks about him, like he was some sort of hero! I shall never forgive him for tricking me when I was on the stand, and making me betray you like that!" she ended as she switched her gaze to Harm."

"You didn't betray me, Jen," Harm said gently, "You just told the truth. I know you didn't want to, and I was so proud of you when you did. And for the record, if it had been me prosecuting, I would probably have asked the same question."

Jen looked squarely at Harm, "No, sir. No, you wouldn't!" she declared firmly.

Harm cast a glance around the table and saw the concerned expressions on Bud, Harriet and Mattie's faces and the open-eyed curiosity on the faces of the two boys, and decided to let the conversation drop until another time. "Well, maybe not," he conceded.

There was a few minutes awkward silence but gradually the conversation picked up again as Harriet, ably seconded by Harm gently led the talk into less contentious issues.

xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx

Gill's eyes flew open as an explosive "Crap!" burst from Sue's lips.

Gill propped herself up in bed to see Sue frantically puling on her skirt, and barefoot and still wearing Gill's T-shirt, she hurried across the room.

"Where's the fire?" Gill asked in bemused tone

"It's nearly eight!" Sue flung back over her shoulder, "Got to feed the metre!"

"Sue!" Gill shouted as her friend hurried to the stairs, and then she slumped back onto her pillows, "It's Sunday... free parking on Sundays..." she said quietly to herself.

Levering herself back up onto her elbows, she looked around her usually neat and tidy room. Thank God she didn't share quarters with Sue. The room looked like a bomb had hit it. In one corner was the pile of carrier bags that held most of the fruits of Sue's shopping expedition. Her blouse and suit from last night were hung carelessly on the open wardrobe door, and the air-bed on which she'd spent the night was now a tangle of sheets and blankets, and the cushion she'd purloined to use as a pillow had, during her rush to get dressed, been kicked half-way across the floor.

Still, it had been a good night, it was good to get out of the Mess for an evening. Sue had been right when she'd told Gill at some stage of the evening that she did need to 'get a life'. Gill had feared this was just the precursor to a campaign from Sue to persuade her go 'up West' for the evening - and into the morning. But to her relief the lively blonde hadn't pressed the matter and the two officers had returned to Gill's room just after eleven.

Sue now returned, a slightly grumpy expression on her face.

"Sue?" Gill inquired.

"Oh... nothing!" Sue plumped down on the edge of the bed, "It's just that I ran all the way down to the damned car – in bare feet!" she said indignantly, "and then when I got there, I noticed the sign said 'free parking' on Sundays! - You could have told me!" she added accusingly.

"I tried!" Gill giggled, "but you ran put of the room before I could get the words out!"

"Oh well... Didn't really matter anyway," Sue sighed with one of her mercurial shifts of mood. "I got to the car and then I realised I'd left my purse on your dressing table... I hadn't got a penny on me!"

Gill stared at Sue in disbelief for a few seconds and then burst into laughter.

"Hey!, It's not that funny!" Sue protested.

"Yes! Yes it is!" Gill howled.

Sue looked at her friend in disgust, and then a grin spread across her face, "Yes, I suppose it is!" she agreed and she too started to laugh.

xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx

"So, Jen... are you all packed?" Harm had to raise his voice over the hubbub of another Roberts' Family Breakfast, as he asked a still subdued Petty Officer.

"Yes, sir. Just got the clothes I'm wearing, another change and my uniform, all the rest is on its way to England." Jen raised her eyes from her plate, but found it difficult to meet Harm's gaze.

"And what about the car? The Admiral – you just missed him yesterday – called it a wreck and said it was smoking like he...uh... heck!" he finished with a conscience-stricken look at Harriet.

Jen sighed, "That d... uh... darn thing's nothing but a money pit these days! I've spent a fortune keeping it on the road, but you know what it's like around here,sir. I couldn't be without it! But I am getting rid of it. Marcy Hill's brother – Yeoman Two Hill, that is – well, her brother drives in demolition derbies and he's giving me two hundred for it. I just hope I don't need one in England, at least that way I'll be able to save some money!"

"Would it get us to Rock Creek Park and back. Do you think?"

"Rock Creek Park? I guess, but..."

"I was thinking, Harriet," Harm said, holding up a hand to signal Jen for silence for a moment, "You're likely to be pretty busy today, and that Jen, Mattie and I could maybe take the boys to the Zulu Oscar Oscar; get them out from under your feet for a while..."

"Not for me, Harm!" Mattie said firmly and then blushed slightly as all eyes turned towards her. "I mean, it's a great idea for the rest of you, but..."

"But what, Mattie?" Jen said, "I think it's a great idea!"

"Six months ago, I would have jumped at the chance," Mattie replied,"but you're all forgetting how steep and hilly the... uh... that place is! I couldn't manage it, and you couldn't manage me, the chair and the boys. No matter how much you wanted to!"

A J had done his best to follow the conversation, most of it had gone over his head, but he had grasped that a treat was being proposed, and that Mattie, his bestest friend, couldn't go, and that was enough for him. "If she can't go, I don't want to!" he announced and then sat back in his chair his arms folded defiantly across his chest.

"That's silly!" Mattie told him severely, "I thought you were smarter than that AJ Roberts!"

"Am smart too! But if you can't go, I don't wanna!" AJ pouted with a determined look in his eyes.

Harm chuckled, "Give it up, Squirt! I've seen that look on Bud's face a time or two, and when he gets like that, it'd take an act of Congress to get him to change his mind!"

"For the Lord's sake, Harm don't encourage him! Either of them!" Harriet cried giving her husband and son an equal share of a look of exasperation.

"Hey, when did it suddenly become pick on me day?" Bud demanded with an injured expression.

Harm took a look at Harriet's face, winked at her and said, "Oh... I reckon that would be from the day after you got married!"

Bud joined in the general laugh at his expense, "You could be right, Harm!"

"Ohh! No such thing Bud Roberts!" Harriet exclaimed in mock indignation, although she was trying not laugh out loud.

Even the two boys were laughing, not that they understood what was being said, but because they were happy that everyone else was laughing.

Harm sat back in his chair, still chuckling and giving himself a mental pat on the back as life came back to Jen's face as she joined in the general amusement. But he also gave a mental shake of the head, he would have find the time and the opportunity to gently dissuade his Legalman from jumping to his defence on the slightest excuse, it would do her career no good if she persisted in that sort of behaviour.

He was forced to push that thought onto his mental back-burner as various plans were put forward for the day's entertainment, until at length, it was decided that he, Jen, Mattie and the two boys would spend the day at Six Flags, and that for ease of transport they'd take the Roberts mini-van, in which Bud had installed two lengths of stout board for a makeshift ramp for Mattie's chair.

So by ten thirty, suitably loaded down with packed lunches, swimming gear and sun screen, the party loaded themselves into the van, with Jen driving, and headed for the amusement park.

Bud and Harriet watched them until they lost sight of the van as it turned the corner at the bottom of the road.

Bud slipped his arm around Harriet's waist, "You do realise that we've got the house to ourselves, for the rest of the day?" he asked suggestively.

"Umm... note quite... we've still got the twins," Harriet objected.

"Well... if they're out for the count, it's still as good as having the place, and the time to ourselves..." he winked broadly.

Harriet gave him a mournful look,"Oh, Bud... I've got too much work to do..."

"Like what?" he challenged her as he turned them back towards the house.

"Well... there's the beans and rice to get ready for tomorrow..."

"And how long will that take?"

"The rice not much at all... but the beans... well once I've sautéed the onions, celery and spices... the beans will take about two hours after they've come to the boil..."

"How long did you just say will they take to boil?"

"About two hours..."

"I see, and what do you intend to do while they're boiling?"

"I was going to do some tidying up..."

"So... we could tidy up the bedroom," Bud suggested with an innocent smile.

"The bedroom's not untidy, Bud!" Harriet protested.

"Not yet, it's not!" Bud grinned.

"Bud Roberts!" A pretending to be scandalised Harriet exclaimed, and then spoiled the effect by giggling, "You are so bad!"

"Let's see if we can't change your mind about that!" Bud smiled, as he guided her across the lobby to the stairs.

"Always the lawyer, Bud. You just have to have the last word, don't you?" Harriet pouted

"Yes, dear."


	13. Chapter 13

**13**

Johnny Walker put his coffee cup down on the saucer shook his head, "I'm not much of one for church-going," he said in response to Julia's suggestion that they go to the mid-morning service at the Cathedral.

Julia's face fell, although she wasn't particularly noted for attending church, she had heard so much about the ceremony attendant on services at the Cathedral, what Archbishop Laud had termed, 'beauty in worship' that she would have liked to see it while she was in Salisbury on a Sunday and while she was with Johnny.

Johnny saw the look of disappointment on Julia's face and mentally gave himself a kick, "But if you want to go, then of course I'll go with you," he said heroically.

"But you'll be bored silly, won't you?" Julia challenged him.

"Bored? When I'm with you? Not a hope in hell!" Johnny enthused and was amply rewarded by the flush that suffused Julia's face.

She looked across the table at him, her eyes shining, and said "Thank you!""

"And after the service, we can grab a bite of lunch, and then have a walk round. They do a pretty good ploughman's at the Wig and Quill!" Johnny grinned.

"You're kidding, right?" Julia said dubiously, "What's the Wig and Quill?"

"It's a pub, on New Street, about five minutes' walk from the Cathedral."

"Right... and a ploughman's?"

"A ploughman's lunch, fresh, crusty bread, cheese, pickle and a half pint of beer to wash it down."

"OK sounds good, but only the one drink... remember we've both got to drive home this evening!"

"Yeah, but I wish we didn't," Johnny replied.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Bud Roberts had just finished changing Nikki when he heard the sound of his returning mini-van, and raising his head, he looked out through the nursery window in time to see it pull up in the drive. Although he had every faith in the Captain's driving ability, he still couldn't help breathing a faint sigh of relief at the apparent lack of damage to his vehicle. It wasn't that he was particularly attached to it, it was just that it was too damned essential to be in the repair shop for any length of time, particularly as it was now need not just for his own brood, but to transport Mattie and her wheel chair to and from physical therapy, but if things didn't work out the way she and the Captain – hell all of them – hoped, then eventually she would need transport to and from school.

But there were no such gloomy thoughts in the teenager's mind at the moment, the bright sound of her laughter could be heard clearly as Harm, leaning back against the weight of girl and chair, almost succeeded in preventing it running away with him as he tried to control its descent down the makeshift ramp from the side door of the van.

"Mattie! That was wicked of you!" an also smiling Jennifer Coates admonished her young friend, "You just about scared the Captain to death! You know you could have helped with the brakes!"

"I know!" an entirely unrepentant Mattie giggled, "but it was just so much darned fun!"

"Mattie Grace!" Harm began trying, but failing to stay stern, "You are going to pay for that!"

"Yeah?" Mattie looked at him slyly, "What you gonna do? Spank a poor little cripple girl?"

Both man and teenager ignored Jen's shocked, "Mattie!"

"I might just do that, young lady!" Harm said magisterially.

"Yeah, right..." Mattie drawled.

For a long moment they stared levelly at each other, until in answer to the twitching of Mattie's lips, Harm's face broke into a huge grin, "Go on, Squirt, get inside with you!"

Mattie her own grin as broad as Harm's flipped him an irreverent salute, and spun her wheel chair around, working up enough speed, or so she hoped to propel it up the shallow ramp that Bud had installed at one end of the porch.

Harm and Jen stood watching her progress. "You think she's going to make it?" he asked.

Jen shrugged, "Sometimes she does, sometimes she doesn't, It's about a fifty-fifty proposition."

Harm nodded, "It's difficult seeing her struggle so much, I just want to help her..."

Jen looked at him gravely, "I know... but she's got to learn to handle that thing and all other sorts of stuff by herself, just in case..."

Harm resisted the temptation to give Jen a hug as her throat started to clog, instead he said in a mock severe tone, "That's just about enough of that from, young lady! Positive thoughts only, remember PMA is as necessary to us as it is to Mattie, OK?"

Jen nodded, pulled a Kleenex from her purse and blew her nose, "OK!" she replied when she had completed her little ritual.

"Good girl," Harm smiled approvingly, "Now let's get these two and their gear unloaded!"

Two minutes later Harm and Jen, loaded down with bags containing wet swim-suits, damp towels and their associated paraphernalia and each with a sleepy Roberts on hip joined a triumphant Mattie on the porch.

Harm looked down at her and grinned, "Bravo Zulu, Squirt!"

"Oh..." Mattie went slightly pink under his approval and muttered a hasty disclaimer, "Oh, weren't nothing much!"

"Maybe not, but it's a damn good start.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

"Looks like you wore them out!" Harriet said about half an hour later as she came down stairs with a tray in her hands. "I just about managed to get them to drink their milk and eat a cookie and get them to brush their teeth before they fell into bed!"

"Don't look at me!" Harm raised his hands in mock surrender, "It was all Jen and Mattie's doing! I'm getting far too long in the tooth to sustain the energy level needed to tire those two – or three – out." He added the latter with a smile and a sidelong glance at Mattie, who was almost drowsing in her chair while she waited for her dinner.

"How did Mattie do?" Harriet asked quietly.

"She done good. Jen helped her in and out of her swim suit while I saw to the boys, and then all four promptly abandoned me, and spent the whole day in the water, except when they wanted ice cream or cotton candy or candy apples or..."

"Harm, you didn't!" Harriet gasped.

"Nope. You should know me better than that, Harriet." Harm grinned triumphantly, "I laid down the rules before we got there. They could have one ice-cream each, after they'd had lunch, no sodas, no cotton candy, no extra treats! And they were all very good about it, none of them asked for anything extra."

"I do know you better than that – under normal circumstances – but you have a habit of letting those two boys twist you around their little fingers! And what did they have for lunch?" Harriet asked as she started to set the table for the five adults, "and where's Bud got to?"

"We all had a salad sandwich for lunch, of one sort or another, and I got the boys fruit juice, which I diluted with a bottle of water! And Bud is in the bedroom with Jen," Harm added innocently.

Harriet froze for an instant, and then carefully placing the fork she was holding on the table she straightened and looked Harm in the eye, easily seeing and identifying the mischief there.

Harriet grinned, "Nope. Not going to work! If Bud is in the bedroom with Jen, it's because they're doing something on the computer. Probably working out the route between wherever she'll be landing to the base!"

"Damn! Busted!" Harm said mournfully. "Oh well, seeing as Bud is busy, do you want a hand with getting dinner out?"

Harriet eyed him up and down, "I do. And what's more Mister, you can consider yourself on KP duty this evening!"

"Oh... I'd figured that anyway!" Harm said cheerfully, "Now where are the plates?"

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Harriet had been dead right in her guess at what Bud and Jen had been doing in the bedroom, which under normal circumstances was Bud's den cum study. When she appeared for dinner Jen had a sheaf of paper in her hand, which she laid aside as she helped position Mattie at the table, but once the food had been served and everyone had started eating, she couldn't help but turn to Harm, a trace of concern on her face.

"Commander Roberts helped me check out how to get from Lakenheath Air Base to Northolt, sir. It's about ninety miles!"

"That far?" Harm queried.

"Yes, sir! And it looks like I'd have to get clear across London to get to Northolt, too. We had a look at the public transit system, and it's going to take while, so I don't want to get marked up as UA." Jen forced a grin, "Again!""

"OK..." Harm thought furiously 'clear across London' rang a bell, "Well, I don't want you to get written up either! It'll be best if I have you picked up, the Yeoman who's been driving me – Julia Martinez, and I know you've spoken with her on the 'phone – has made a study of driving in England, so you'll be in capable hands."

"Oh.. I wasn't angling for that, sir!" A blushing Jen protested, "I was just a little... well, it looked a bit daunting... there were so many bus changes to make and... Well, thank you sir!"

"Nonsense – I can't have my office manager adrift somewhere in darkest London!"

"O... office manager, sir?" Jen faltered.

"Yes. I'll go into it further once you're on station, but to keep using you as a yeoman is waste of your training and talents. I don't have many attorneys at hand, and you will be far more useful to me, and to the office, as an experienced Legalman, and you're the only First Class, of any rate in the office, so you're the ranking enlisted in the office too. It will do you good to be in a supervisory position, and I know you'll make sure that everyone keeps their nose to the grindstone, too!"

"Office Manager, Jen! Wow! Way to go!" Mattie enthused.

"Yes, indeed!" Bud grinned.

"Yes, congratulations, Jennifer!" Harriet smiled.

Jen blushed even more and lowering her head paid close attention to her meal, while the twins just sat in their high chairs and gurgled between mouthfuls of pureed ground beef and vegetables.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Harm sat back in his seat, fastened his lap strap and wearily closed his eyes. God, he hated emotional airport farewells. Mattie had been bad enough, fighting to keep the tears from showing on her face or in her voice, but it had been Harriet who had surprised him, hugging him fiercely, her voice breaking as she'd said her goodbyes, mixed up with complaints that it wasn't fair, and she wished he didn't have to go.

The boys had been good though, Jimmy might not have fully understood when, why and for how long Harm was going away, but A J did, and he had stood square-on to face Harm and held out his hand, and only after Harm had gravely shaken it, had the little boy allowed his Godfather to pick him up and give him a squeeze.

Bud and Harriet had insisted on waiting with him until the boarding call was made, and the last Harm had seen of them was the little family group, including Jennifer Coates and Mattie in her wheel chair, clustered together to wave a final goodbye as he cleared security and disappeared into the departures lounge.

It was strange, reflecting back, his impending departure had even cast a bit of a pall over the July 4th Picnic. The whole Roberts family had seemed slightly subdued, although they had livened up during the squids and jarheads' softball game. Harm had been roped in as a hitter for the squids, and Jen showed that she had a mean pitching arm, even with a softball, and especially when she had pitched to Lieutenant Colonel McBurney, whom she had struck out twice in consecutive innings. Harm grinned at the memory of an earlier incident, before the game had started, he had been talking to Jen when a voice from behind him had said, "Ah Jennifer, I hoped you be here today!"

Jennifer had stiffened and fire had flashed in her eyes as she drew herself into a brace, "Sir! It would be better perhaps, if you addressed me by my rate and rating! It is not appropriate for you to address me by my name! And the Captain had not yet finished speaking with me!"

Harm had turned to see who had drawn such a reaction from her, to find McBurney flushing angrily at the very public rebuke he had just received from a subordinate and the chagrin that he felt in his breach of protocol by breaking in on a superior officer's conversation. He had not recognised Harm from the back, in short sleeved shirts and slacks with a ball-cap reversed on his head.

"Your pardon, Captain!" he had managed, "Legalman One. By your leave, sir?"

"Yes, carry on, Colonel." Harm had said gravely

Harm had waited until the discomfited marine was out of earshot before he'd said, "That was naughty of you Jen. For God's sake don't make a habit of it!"

Jen had faced him almost defiantly, "I can't help it, sir! I despise that man, and he pushes all my wrong buttons. He knows he's not supposed to address me by name, I've told him before, more than once, that if he wants to talk to me then he should use my rate and rating, but he just won't take the hint!"

"Like another officer we know?"

"Who do you mean... oh... Lieutenant Vukovic?"

"Yeah... the ever-so-popuar 'Vic' Speaking of whom," Harm looked around the gathering, "Where is he today?"

"Uh... he was PCS'd to San Diego, sir." Jen had said tersely.

"I thought Mac... Colonel MacKenzie said she didn't want him?"

"I don't think she had much choice in the matter, sir. Scuttlebutt has it that the General sent him there because he need seasoning, and that the Colonel was the right officer for the job now that Commander Turner had resigned."

Harm raised an eyebrow but said nothing. He had a bad feeling about the whole situation."H'mm... Be careful; you know what they say about scuttlebutt"

"Yes, sir, that it's usually right! And now, sir, after talking with Colonel McBurney, and talking about 'Vic'. I feel like washing my mouth out! I'm going to get another a drink! Can I get you another one, sir?" Jen had looked meaningfully at the bottle of mineral water in Harm's hand.

Harm watched her walk away. He was getting concerned about Jen's reaction to McBurney. It seemed that she just wouldn't or couldn't accept that the man had only been doing his duty as he had seen fit. He had shaken his head, no, out of that whole sorry mess the only one he felt any resentment for was that OCD case of a defence attorney that SecNav had insisted be appointed as his defence counsel. She really had seemed to have a severely limited set of courtroom skills. No, that wasn't quite true, she wasn't the only one whom he felt had let him down; he still felt a degree of hurt that Mac had actually asked him if he had killed Loren Singer!

He had been jerked out of his introspection by a familiar and sardonic voice in his ear, "She really doesn't like that man, does she?"

Harm had spun around to see his old CO grinning at him, even as he nodded in McBurney's direction, "No, sir..." he began, and then corrected himself, "I mean A J..." and he fell into astonished silence as he recognised the woman standing next to the former JAG and, he noticed, had his hand lightly clasped in hers.

"You remember Doctor Walden, don't you Harm? Sydney, you'll remember the Captain as Commander Rabb."

"Of course I do!" Doctor Sydney Walden extended a hand to Harm, "Congratulations on your promotion! Even A J says you deserved it!"

"Y... yes... th... thank... thank you, ma'am!" Harm had finally managed taking her offered hand.

"That's Sydney to you, Captain. I can't have you call A J by his name and then turn round and in the same breath and call me 'ma'am'!"

"No, ma'am!" Harm had agreed, feeling his ears grow warm as Sydney had chuckled at his reply.

"I'll leave you to get over your shock, Harm! Sydney and I need to deposit our contribution to the festivities and then we need to go make the rounds, go startle some other folk!" And the retired Admiral had actually inked at Harm as he placed a hand in the small of the doctor' back and led her in the direction of the already loaded trestle tables.

Harm had almost staggered back to the table where Bud and Harriet had paused in the settling of their brood.

"Was that..." Bud had gestured vaguely in the direction that A J had taken.

Harm had taken a pull from his water bottle and nodded, "Yup!"

"The sly old dog!" Bud had grinned.

"And he never said a word about it!" Harriet had pouted, "Men!"

But before either Harm or Bud could react to Harriet, Bud's eyes had opened wide, and under the pretence of taking a mouthful of juice from his plastic cup he muttered, just loud enough for Harm to hear, "JAG on deck!" as that officer headed towards their table.

Harm had been compelled by courtesy to pass the time of day with General Cresswell, and although the Marine didn't comment on Harm's unexpected presence, Harm couldn't help the feeling that he got that the General disapproved of his absence from his duty station, but memory of Harriet's comment diverted Harm's thoughts down another track, and he roused from his reveries just in time to hear the flight attendant finish her safety briefing. Harm gave a mental shrug, he flown so many air miles that he was perfectly familiar both with the aircraft type and with the in-flight safety briefing.

But... Harriet's comment about men... yeah... it had set him thinking about women. Two women in particular. The sight of A J reconciled with Sydney Walden had set him wondering about a reconciliation with Mac... but after thinking through that painful last encounter he had come to the regrettable conclusion that a reconciliation just wasn't on the cards. As far as he was aware, Sydney had never told A J that she was mistaken in her regard for him, and the she didn't love him. A J and Sydney had fallen out over her blind devotion to her son, refusing to admit that he had any faults. Knowing A J as he did, Harm was sure that he hadn't changed his opinion about the young man, so that argued that Sydney had. He just wished she had come to her senses a couple of years ago, it would have saved all that angst with Meredith, and with a happier A J at the helm, maybe JAG wouldn't have headed for hell quite so quickly, or maybe not at all!

So... strike Mac from his thoughts... and consider what Mattie had said about finding more love for someone when they came into his life... Yeah, that was definitely worth considering... but who?

And that thought led to a pair of smiling eyes and a cool, clipped, cultured British accent, and two days in her company, feeling the ground shake beneath his feet... He grinned at the thought, there weren't many women who had ever made the earth move for him, especially not while they were still vertical and dressed in combat fatigues!

Closing his eyes he leaned back against the head-rest, and closed his eyes.

Even though she was about to head for the galley to begin the never-ending task of serving refreshments to the passengers in Comfort Economy class, the pretty red-head flight attendant took a couple of seconds to look at the tall guy asleep in his seat. He was pretty darn good-looking she'd thought when he first boarded, but now with his eyes closed, his face relaxed and a soft smile on his lips... and then, as if he'd felt her looking at him, he opened his eyes and grinned up at her, "Are we there yet? he asked as his smile broadened.

"Uh... no, sir... I... uh... I was just passing on my way to the galley... sir!" she stammered and blushed furiously as she rushed on past him. Those eyes! And that smile! It ought to be made illegal, she thought indignantly. Her confusion wasn't helped by her friend Terri's question.

"Something wrong, Martie?"

"I don't want to talk about it!" The flustered red head declared.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Julia Martinez' faced split in a grin of welcome, "Good evening sir! Welcome home!" she said as she hurried forward to take Harm's sea-bag.

"Good evening, Martinez!" Harm returned and then as he saw her grasping hand, he frowned, "Stand down Yeoman Two! I've told you before I'm big enough and ugly enough carry my own bags!"

"Yes, sir," Martinez nearly pouted, but remembered herself in time, "But it's against all protocol!"

"So is my allowing you to bully me!" Harm grinned. And then another thought struck him, "Did you just say 'welcome home'?" he demanded

"I guess I did,sir," Julia admitted after a moment or two for thought, and wheeling to fall into step with him, "And it is, I guess, sir. Well, at least as much of a home as we're going to have until we go back to the States!"

"I guess," Harm admitted, and in a strange way, Martinez was almost right. He actually did feel more at home here, or at least less unsettled than he'd felt on the outward journey. "Now, where did you park?"

"I got lucky, sir, Level One, just across from the doors here!"

No more than three minutes later, his sea-bag stowed in the trunk, Harm settled himself in the front passenger seat and buckled his seat-belt. He nodded approvingly as Julia negotiated the complex one way system out of the airport, but kept quiet until they were on the open road.

Only then did he ask, "How was your weekend, Yeoman Two?"

"Just great sir! Really living the life!"

Harm looked across at her, sailors usually loaded answers like that with sarcasm, but all he could detect was enthusiasm.

"Go on," he encouraged her.

"Yes, sir. After I dropped you off at the airport, I went back through to Woolwich to see Corporal Morrison..."

"How is she?" Harm interrupted.

"She says she fine, sir, but she seemed to be in some pain, despite the meds they've got her on. One of the Marines' officers or Staff NCOs visit with her every two to three days, so she's not being left put of the loop. She's made friends – well sort of – with the other women in the ward, she was swapping war stories with one of the British Army women who'd been injured in Iraqistan. Corporal Morrison's leg is still packed in ice, but she told me she was due for surgery on Monday, that's the Monday just past, sir, the fourth!"

"No holiday in hospital, hey?"

"No sir. I tried calling her yesterday, but I couldn't get through to her and all the nurse would tell me is that she's 'resting after surgery' and that she's 'comfortable, whatever the hell that means!" Julia grumbled.

"Well apart from visiting the sick," Harm was having a hard time to bite back on his amusement at his Yeoman's level of disgruntlement, "How was the rest of the holiday?"

"Oh... that really was great, sir! On Saturday, I went down to Salisbury, to see Johnny... uh... Bombardier Walker, sir. We stayed in a cute little hotel, dinner on Saturday night, and then on Sunday we went to church in the Cathedral – it was really impressive, and the music! The organ was fantastic and the choir... man, some of our churches back home could learn from the British!"

"So... you had a good time?"

"You bet!" Julia grinned enthusiastically.

"Good... I see you're still in one piece, how did the softball game go."

"It went OK sir, we beat the Jarheads, but it was close. Lieutenant Tierney is one hell of a catcher, but we could do with a pitcher who knows how to pitch!"

"That's good to hear. Glad to see we're maintaining naval superiority..." Harm paused to let Julia chuckle before he continued, "JAG HQ Squids beat the jarheads, at Rock Creek Park, by five runs to two, helped considerably by some pretty fierce pitching. So you'll be glad to know that the pitcher, Legalman One Coates arrives here Wednesday evening at RAF Lakenheath!"

"Lakenheath..." Julia frowned, "That's up past Cambridge isn't it sir? Must be a hundred miles from base!"

"Just about, or so I understand," Harm agreed.

"Um... with the Captain's say so, I could maybe go pick her up sir... I mean if she's never been to England before, and she'll have all her bags and..."

"Stand down, Yeoman Two!" Harm chuckled, "Well they do say one volunteer is better than ten pressed men – or women in this case. I was going to detail you for the job anyway, but I was also going to leave that until we were back in the office!"

"Saved you a job then haven't I sir?" Julia risked the quip.

"I guess you have!" Harm replied, uneasily wondering if perhaps he wasn't making a mistake in having Julia Martinez and Jennifer Coates in the same office, particularly as he envisaged their roles complementing each other, and perhaps even overlapping slightly.

Julia sensed that his mood had deepened and concentrated on her driving. The ten-mile drive was soon over and Harm smiled his thanks as Julia drew the motor-pool sedan to a smooth halt outside his front door, "Thanks Yeoman Two. Zero seven hundred tomorrow, right?"

"Zero seven hundred, aye, sir! Good night sir!"

Harm waited until the young woman was back in the car before he let himself into the house. After the bustle and liveliness of the last three days at the Roberts house, this place felt alien, cold, sterile, unloved and unlived in. And it was neither, he realised. He'd done his best to make it comfortable, but it was too... squared away... and definitely lacked those little touches that made a house a home...

Shaking his head, he dropped his sea-bag inside the front door and hung the freshly cleaned summer whites on the coat rack in the hall, and then headed for the kitchen. The aroma of fresh brewed coffee might help the atmosphere, and as soon as he'd made a couple of necessary 'phone calls, the right sort of music would help as he prepped his fresh uniform for the morning.

Settling down on the couch, he picked up the phone and dialled the number, after what seemed an interminable wait he heard the pick up at the other end. "Hi Harriet? It's Harm. Just to let you know that I made it across the pond without even getting my feet wet..."

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

"Good morning, sir!" Julia stood behind her desk and greeted him brightly on Thursday morning as he walked into her office.

"Good morning Yeoman Two. Everything go all right last night?" He asked as he paused his hand on his office door.

"Just fine sir!" Julia answered.

"So... where's Legalman One Coates? I don't see her around?"

"Oh, she's down in Military Admin, processing in sir. Seaman Aldridge is with her, and he'll bring her back up when she's done!"

"Any idea when that's likely to be?"

"Can't help you there sir, their wheels grind exceedingly slowly..."

"But exceedingly small, huh?"

Julia shook her head sadly, "Not even that redeeming feature, sir, just exceedingly slow!"

Harm grinned but shook his head reprovingly, "Easy, Yeoman Two," he cautioned Julia. After all he couldn't allow his subordinates to criticise the organisation – well, not too much anyway. But he then became aware that there was an air of expectancy about his Yeoman and asked, "Was there something else?"

"Yes, sir. I... uh... was hoping you'd approve this, sir" she held out a sheet of paper towards Harm.

Harm read the request for one day of annual leave and raised his eyebrows.

Julia saw and misinterpreted the expression on his face, and in the hope of forestalling a veto, she rushed on "I know it's maybe not the most convenient timing, with Legalman One Coates moving in, sir. But it is only one day, and I'm quite happy to work late to bring Legalman One Coates fully up to speed before I take the day, sir. That is if she doesn't mind working late too, and..."

Harm couldn't resist the chuckle that was building up in his chest, "Stand down, Yeoman Two! Relax and breathe before you collapse!" Now come on in to my office!"

He led the now blushing Julia into his inner sanctum, "Take a seat," he instructed her, and propped his butt against the front edge of his desk. "I'm sure you've got good reason for asking for a day's leave, and I'm sure you've got it on the books. The timing is fine; if you and Legalman One Coates can't sort out your handover and her reading in process in two weeks, then the two of you are in the wrong post. And you're not! No, I was only surprised that you only wanted one day! What's the story?"

Julia looked down at her hands that were nervously twisting in her lap, "It's Johnny, sir... uh...Bombardier Walker, Captain Shephard's driver..."

"Yeah, I know who Johnny is, Harm said gently.

"Well he was a hero in Iraq, sir. And they're giving him a medal, the Military Cross, sir. And they're going to have a big formation down in Tidworth for a formal presentation, on the Saturday morning, and I've kinda promised him that I'd be there. So if I could have the Friday off, it would make travel easier and I'd be sure of not being late... sir."

"The Military Cross, huh? That's pretty high up on the scale of things! Congratulations Bombardier Walker!" Harm said

"Yes, sir, I looked it up and as far as I can figure it out it's about the same rate as our Silver Star, or maybe even the Distinguished Service Medal!"

"OK! Way to go!" Harm smiled and then added, "But I'll have to think about this..." Harm stared at the young woman in front of him for what seemed like to her hours, but was no more than five seconds. "OK, I've thought about it! You can take a personal day that Friday, and you won't need this!" he crumpled the application up into a ball and tossed it casually in the direction of the waste basket. Julia followed its trajectory and gave a little gasp of surprise as it landed clean in its intended target.

No-on could have been more surprised than Harm at the success of his shot, but he grinned at Julia, "See, even I can learn from the Royal Artillery!"


	14. Chapter 14

**14**

Harm attended staff call but was happy to let Commander Moseley, the senior of the three judges conduct the meeting while he, Harm, took notes. Not that there had been all that much happening in his absence, but it gave Moseley the chance to wrap the current cases up neatly and hand them over to Harm.

The next item on his agenda was to brief Coates and Martinez on the plans he had drawn up for their future employment, so when a rap on his door proved to be Martinez announcing that Coates had returned from her administrative in-processing he pushed his chair back from the desk and said, "OK, Martinez, send her on in, and you come on in with her!"

Jen marched across the carpet, her eyes taking in the office furnishing. It was bare of all personal touches except for a single photograph frame standing on Harm's desk, which although it had its back to her as she halted in front the desk, she was willing to bet held a photograph of Mattie Grace.

"Legalman One Coates reporting for duty, sir!" she snapped out.

"Good morning Coates; your orders, please?"

Jen snapped open her purse and produced her neatly folded orders and offered them to Harm, who took them and placed them on top of the short stack of files in his in-tray. "At ease, Legalman One," he told her and waited until Jen had assumed the posture of 'Parade Rest' before he continued. "I am very happy that you've made it here, not just because it's good to have you back working with me, but it also means that Mattie is finally out of hospital! Now, how was your flight, and the pick-up?" he asked darting his eyes across to Julia who had stood back a paced behind Jen's left shoulder.

Jen resisted the temptation to shrug, "The flight was a C-17, sir, you know how that goes, noisy, uncomfortable, but endurable. The pick-up was smooth as silk, sir. As soon as we'd cleared baggage and customs, my name was piped and Yeoman Two Martinez was waiting for me in the arrivals hall with my name on card in her hands, sir! She took good care of me all the way here!"

Harm smiled, "Good... now take a seat, both of you while I try to explain how I see you two working for the benefit of this office."

He waited, leaning back in his chair, his hands resting lightly on the ends of the arm-rests, while both young women seated themselves and then looked at him with an air of interest on their faces.

"Firstly, Yeoman Two Martinez will continue to function as my Yeoman. You will continue to organise me and my calendar and you will deal with all non-legal correspondence for my attention. Legalman One Coates, you will function as my Legalman. You will handle every piece of legal paper that comes into this office, that includes checking the work of the junior Legalmen – we have three – for neatness and accuracy, anything that isn't up to standard is to be sent back to the Legalman responsible. You will liaise with the Judges' Legalman, a Legalman Two..." he cocked an eye at Martinez.

"Phelps, sir!"

"Thank you; Legalman Two Phelps and make sure we have an up to date copy of the Trial Docket each day. You will be responsible for overseeing the production of all legal reports and returns," Harm allowed himself a small sympathetic smile, "including the quarterly court statistics return."

Jen's face fell, responsible for overseeing its production she might be, but it was an horrendously detailed and complex document and she knew that the only way she could be satisfied as to its accuracy would be to complete it herself.

"In addition," Harm continued remorselessly "you will function as my office manager and Staff Petty Officer, a sort of combination of Lieutenant Sims and Gunnery Sergeant Galindez, responsible for the smooth running of the office and the maintenance of good order and discipline. The Chief of Staff position is gapped at the moment but I am working on getting it filled. But until then you will also be my personnel officer, so that takes that burden off you, Yeoman Two. But to compensate for that, you and your two cohorts will be responsible for producing requisitions for everything from abacuses to zoo tickets for Legalman One Coates authorisation, as she directs. Any questions?"

The two young women shook their heads.

"Good, one last thing, Legalman One. Yeoman Two Martinez tells me that very few junior rates among the Navy personnel and very few junior rank Marines are qualified to drive in the UK. Even fewer have full British driving licences. My assigned driver, Corporal Morrison, is in hospital at the moment with an injury and is likely to be unfit for duty for some time to come. In the meantime, Yeoman Two Martinez has been pinch-hitting for her, to the detriment of her free time on occasion. I want you to be in a position to share that role with her. So... I have booked you a week-long intensive driving course starting at zero nine hundred hours on Monday. The instructor will collect you from the Guard Room on base at that time and will return you there at seventeen hundred hours, after that you may make what arrangements suit you best, with the proviso that you will be under instruction from zero nine hundred until seventeen hundred daily. The course is run by a British civilian company and will be on the Navy's dime. Yeoman Two Martinez has jumped through all the hoops as far as the paperwork is concerned, and will assist you in obtaining the necessary documents, photographs, and whatever else you will need.

"That leaves today and tomorrow for you to settle in, make yourself known in the bullpen and organise the work space for two desks in the outer office."

Harm stood and the two Petty Officers followed suit. "I'm sure that we'll hit a few bumps on the road while we sort put who does exactly what, but with good will and all three of us working together, I reckon we'll settle down into an efficient and effective team in pretty short order! Now, unless you have anything further for me? No? Good! Dismissed!"

Jen and Julia drew themselves up to attention and responded with a chorused "Aye, aye, sir!"

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Gill took the garment bag containing her Service Dress out of the wardrobe and laid it on her bed before unzipping it, and the with a sigh she slipped off her dressing gown and reluctantly put on skirt and jacket before turning to look at herself in the three-quarter length mirror on the inside of the opened wardrobe door.

She had known in advance that she wouldn't like what she saw. Service Dress was not particularly flattering; the tunic wasn't too bad, it did narrow slightly at the waist and then the jacket's skirts flared a little over the hips, but the skirt... the skirt was hideous. But there was no option, she would have to wear it at Bombardier Walker's medal parade.

With a sigh of resignation she gave her reflection a critical inspection, trying to be as dispassionate as she could, pretending that the reflection wasn't her, but a female soldier under her command.

"Damn, I was right!" Gill swore softly after two or three minutes. Although she had never been overweight she had had to watch her figure in terms of what she ate, drank and how much exercise she did, and knew from her bathroom scales that she'd slipped a few pounds since she'd last worn her SD, but she'd hoped the difference wouldn't be too apparent. Her hopes were doomed, the tunic hung on her like a sack, and the skirt threatened to slip indecorously low from her waist onto her hips. There was no alternative, she'd have to take it to the tailor. Fortunately the Troop had its own tailor on strength, and although alterations to her uniforms would inevitably be a low priority she still had a fortnight before she needed the uniform.

Quickly changing back into civvies Gill re-zipped the garment bag and hung it on the back of the door as a reminder to take it to the tailor's shop first thing in the morning. Fortunately the MOD branch at which she was employed kept Civil Service hours, so that gave her an hour between the Tailor unlocking his shop and Gill needing to be at her desk.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Jen hadn't had much opportunity, and she had been too tired, to take in her new accommodation when she'd arrived at gone midnight last night. She had been vaguely aware it was a house in street full of similar houses, and now having just dismounted from the bus that ferried her and a dozen other male and female Petty Officers and Marine Corps NCOs from the embassy complex to Northholt she would have been at a complete loss as to which house she was living in if she hadn't made a note of the number and the houses themselves hadn't been clearly numbered.

Unlocking the front door to the house and letting herself in Jen heard the sound of voices, and followed them down a short passage, and with a tap on the door in case she should be invading someone's living space she opened the door to reveal a kitchen.

She found herself the object of scrutiny from four pairs of eyes that regarded her with a range of emotions from mild curiosity to suspicion to cold hostility.

"Hi. I'm Jennifer Coates, I arrived kinda late last night."

One of the young women, a tall slim, freckled strawberry blonde, who had looked more curious than anything else slid off the table on which she had perched and placing her half-consumed bottle of beer down she looked Jen in the eye, "Hi, your own self! I'm Carla Lawford, Personnelman One, I thought I saw you in-processing this morning?"

"Probably," Jen agreed with a polite smile.

"Thought so!" Carla grinned triumphantly, "this is Liz Robinson, Journalist One at the Embassy PAO... and one of a dying breed, if scuttlebutt is to be believed!"

"It generally is!" the rather rounded brunette replied, tilting her bottle in Jen's direction

Jen nodded in return, it was pretty common knowledge that the four PA ratings were to be combined into a new rating during the coming year, although there had been nothing officially said or published yet.

"And Shirley Goh, Photographer's Mate One, she works with Liz," the Asian looking woman with the Chinese name was the owner of the hostile stare and barely acknowledged either Carla's introduction or Jen's own somewhat stiff smile of acknowledgement.

"And last but not least, Stephanie Taylor, Info Systems Tech One, also at the Embassy! Welcome to our happy home. We understand that you have seniority over all of us, so that gets you the single bunk, the rest of us are doubled up, but by doing that we get to keep the lounge instead of having to use it as a bedroom!" Carla grinned. "The place is small enough without losing common space and being confined to our bunks!"

Jen grinned in reply, "Sound like a plan!"

"Sure does! Beer?"

"Uh... yeah, thanks... we're not breaking regs are we?"

"No, thank God! These quarters are run and administered by the Royal Air Force, they've shoved all us female Yanks into five houses on this street, and we're governed by RAF regs, and they don't prohibit alcohol in Senior Ranks Accommodation. Strictly speaking, we are honorary members of the Sergeants' Mess on base, but there's not many of us bother with it. Too many rules, and not all of us have the appropriate uniforms... and well... it just ain't like home..."

Jen nodded as she took a sip from her drink, it was a reasonable sounding explanation but one she thought that reflected a narrow somewhat isolationist view. Julia Martinez had tipped her off about the convenience of holding a UK driving licence and Jen was determined that she would take advantage of it and get out and about and see as much of the country as she could while she was here. Besides, it would be fun taking Mattie out to show her around once she got over here, and until the teenager was firmly back on her feet that option would be severely limited.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

That Friday evening Harm took a satisfied look around the bull pen, apart from the Duty PO seeing to some last second filing, he was the last man out of the office. The outer office had been re-arranged. Coates desk was longwise on and to the left of his door while Martinez' desk was at the end wall of the outer office, to the right of his door and facing the door that led to the bull pen. It was early days yet, but it seemed as if the two women would be able to work together. He hoped so, he didn't want to lose either of them, but he would post out one or both of them without a moment's hesitation if there was any great degree of friction between them.

Nodding an acknowledgement to the duty PO's "Goodnight, sir!" he headed for the locker room, a glanced at his watch telling him he needed to hurry a little if he wasn't to keep Martinez waiting for too long.

Julia was waiting by the car door as he ran down the steps from the building, acknowledging the Marine sentry's good night, as he did so. It felt strange not to be saluted and return the salute, but with this entrance being in full view of the public, it was policy that officers in civilian clothes not be saluted. It would be far too easy for unfriendly eyes to identify them if military compliments were paid.

Harm threw an inquiring eye at Martinez as he realised that the vehicle she stood next to was not a normal motor pool sedan, "What's this, Yeoman Two, this isn't a Navy car?"

"No sir. It's a rental."

"Going out of town Yeoman Two?"

"Yes, sir. Heading up to Oxford, and since the Oxford road goes past the base..."

Harm eased into the passenger seat and waited until Martinez had slid in behind the wheel. "What's the attraction at Oxford?" he asked her.

Julia paused in the act of sliding the key into the ignition and turned a startled face towards him, "Oxford, sir! The city of dreaming spires... the colleges... the history... That's where the King set up his government during the civil war!"

"History and old buildings?" Harm queried, "A bit dry and dusty, isn't it?" Harm asked as she eased the rental into traffic.

"Well... they've got some pretty good pubs, especially along the river... So a walk down the river, or maybe rent a row-boat, a pub lunch... Have you ever tried a ploughman's lunch, sir?"

"Can't say as I have," Harm admitted, "Any good?"

"The one we tried in Salisbury was very good," Julia answered, and then realising that she had perhaps given away more than she intended she blushed furiously and fell silent.

"We?" Harm asked lightly.

"Uh... yes sir. Johnny... uh, Bombardier Walker and me, sir," Julia said keeping her eyes firmly fixed on the road.

Harm contented himself with a non-committal "I see," but cast a quick glance across the cab to see Martinez blushing profusely.

"Yes, sir," Julia replied in a suffocated voice and fell silent.

She had never been so relieved as when Captain Rabb respected her silence. She had risked a glance at him a couple of time as they drove, but he seemed to be concentrating on the road, although there was a crinkle in the corner of his eye and there seemed to just the hint of a grin at the corner of his mouth.

Harm was not a cruel person, but in this occasion he couldn't help feel a touch of amusement at Martinez. That amusement overlay a degree of concern however. He was by no means in loco parentis to any of his staff, and Martinez was an adult, over the age of 21, but he didn't like the idea of the young woman sitting next to him being hurt. Walker seemed like a regular guy, but he was a soldier, and a foreign soldier at that...

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Julia followed the SatNav directions and to her relief they led her straight into the parking lot at the Royal Oxford Hotel smack dab in Oxford's City Centre. Unloading her sea-bag and garment bag from the trunk of the Vectra rental, she made her way through to reception. The young man behind the desk didn't look old enough to have left school yet, and the hotel uniform he wore only had the effect of making him look younger than he probably was.

"Hi, Julia Martinez, " I have a reservation." Julia greeted him.

"One moment please..." his fingers flew over the keyboard and a couple of seconds later he looked up with a pleasant but coolly professional smile, "All checked in Miss Martinez, and you're staying for two nights, correct?" He proffered a slim card folder, "Two room keys, and a breakfast card, should you wish to order a room service breakfast.

"Thank you," Julia tucked the cards into the side pocket of her garment bag, "Can you tell me if a Mister Walker has checked in yet?"

Another few seconds wait as the computer was checked once more, "Not yet," the young man whose name plate revealed him to be called Robert, shook his head.

"Thank you. When he does check in, will you give him my room number please, and ask him to call me?"

"Of course!" Robert tapped the message onto Johnny's check in page. "Your room is on the first floor... ah... second floor, turn right out of the lift and it's on the left, overlooking the quod. I could get someone to show you, and carry those for you?"

Julia had no idea what a 'quod' was, but she smiled her thanks, picked up her bags, refusing the offer of help with them or an escort and headed for the elevator – or lift, as Robert had called it.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Harm fretted as he stood by the front door and cast an irritable glance at his watch. In the couple of weeks Martinez had been driving him she had never been late. The frown deepening on his forehead, he was beginning to worry that something might have happened to her over the weekend. His relief was so great when four minutes later a Navy sedan pulled up in front of the house that he couldn't help a brief burst of anger when Martinez climbed out from behind the wheel and started up the footpath to the front door. He didn't wait for her to reach the door, but opened it, and cover and brief-case in hand.

"You're late!" He snapped, "If you can't get here on time, then either you curtail your weekend activities, or I start looking for a reliable driver!"

"Yes, sir! Sorry sir!" Martinez drew herself up into a stiff brace, "No excuse, sir!"

"Very well, let's get on with it!" Harm snapped again his feathers still ruffled.

The first ten minutes of the drive into London passed in stony silence until Harm turned his head, looked at Martinez and said in severe tones, "Don't ever do that again!"

"Sir, I am truly sorry for being late..."

"Oh, the hell with you being late! Just don't ever make me worry about you like that again. Ever!"

"Worry sir?" Martinez asked in surprise, risking a quick glance at her CO.

"Yes! Worry! You were nearly fifteen minutes late, and no word from you. I knew you'd gone away for the weekend, and I was having visions of you and that rental wrapped around a telephone pole somewhere! Next time you're late, call me!"

"Yes, sir! Unless, sir..."

"Yes?"

"You really would prefer another driver?"

"No dammit! I've got used to your driving, and your damned insubordination!" he replied and then grumbled something nearly inaudible, but Julia was almost prepared to swear that he'd mumbled, "Damned nearly as bad as Coates!"

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

After that start to the week, Monday and Tuesday found relations between Captain and Yeoman slightly strained but inevitably their close working proximity worked its subtle magic, helped on Wednesday by a 'phone call to Harm from A J, confirming that the appeal against the Judge's decision would be heard on Friday September 2 at Blacksburg Family Relations Court.

"_That's the Friday before Labour Day Harm_." A J told him drily, "_And it really would help if you can tear yourself away from the fleshpots of London and actually appear in person as the petitioner_!"

"Hell yes! I'm going to be there A J, even if it means I have to go UA!" Harm crowed.

"_Well, don't do that, son. Now I'm out I can't cover your ass for those sort of tricks any more, and somehow I don't reckon the General would bother himself in that respect_!"

"You're probably right, A J, but you know I can't possibly comment."

"_No I know you can't, but watch yourself Harm, that man doesn't like you_!"

"That obvious?" Harm asked in surprise, "I thought I was maybe just being paranoid!"

"_Not a bit. Remember with officers like him, CYA_!"

Despite AJ's words of caution Harm couldn't prevent a bubble of happy confidence rising inside him. He knew it was foolish, and probably just wishful thinking, but he couldn't help feeling that this time the case would go his – and Mattie's – way and that he would walk out of that court room as Mattie Grace's adoptive father, freeing him and Mattie to bring her over to the UK and allow him to be a proper father to her.

He was still riding that bubble when Martinez knocked on the door, bringing him a fresh stack of files for him to work through. His cheerful and entirely unselfconscious, "Thanks Martinez, bring it on!" flummoxed the young woman and she returned to her desk with a bemused smile on her face. Her bemusement only grew when not ten minutes later Harm called her back into his office.

"Martinez a little job for you. Find a car rental company that will one: accept a Virginia driver's licence, two: deliver and collect the rental from my house address, three: has a car I can get in and out of and four: won't charge the earth! Got it?"

"Aye, aye, sir... but sir, is... is there something wrong with my driving, sir?"

"What? Oh, no... not all. It's just that you won't be here this weekend, will you? Aren't you going down to Tidworth for your Bombardier's medal award?"

"Uh... yes, sir!" Martinez agreed, a slight flush staining her cheeks when she heard Harm refer to Johnny as 'her' Bombardier.

"Yeah, thought I'd got my weeks right..." he paused regarding his Yeoman for a moment, "Are you wearing uniform for the ceremony?"

"Yes, sir!" Julia replied, chin up, "I shall be wearing my Dress Whites, sir!" she added, thinking the hell with regs, I want to show the world how proud I am of him!

"H'mm... bending the regulations maybe, but not quite breaking them! OK. So... the car, Yeoman Two?" he prompted her.

Martinez took the unconventional dismissal in the manner in which it was meant, and with relief that the Captain seemed to be on his way to restoring normal relationships. Although she did send a look at Coates' empty desk and wished that the other woman was there to give her a lead on how to cope with their CO's moods.

With normal relations well on their way to being resumed the rest of the week passed smoothly enough. There was enough routine paperwork flowing smoothly over Harm's desk for him to begin to feel bored with it, and the lack of tension in the office, due not only to the gradually mending fences with Martinez but mostly to do with the lack of aggravation arising from friction between Tierney and Sullivan had a vaguely unsettling effect, so it was with a feeling of relief that he secured on Thursday evening and changed into his civilian clothes, to meet Martinez in a different coloured Vectra rental at the entrance to the building.

"Straight to Tidworth, Yeoman Two?" he asked as he eased into the passenger seat and seeing Martinez's Dress Whites hanging in a garment bag from the grab-handle above the rear door.

"Yes, sir! But only after I've delivered you safe and sound, sir!"

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Harm resisted the temptation to drum his fingers on the steering wheel as he turned off the road and joined the line of vehicles waiting to to be processed through the security check at the entrance to Tidworth Garrison, and thanking whatever instinct had prompted him to make an early start. The car, a Ford Mondeo, had been delivered to the on-base house on Friday evening as he'd requested, and he had taken the opportunity to take for a test drive around the base before he'd ventured out onto public roads. The first half hour or so he'd been cautious in his driving as he got used to using what was, for him, the wrong hand to change gear and to driving on the wrong side of the road. But he eventually relaxed and began to enjoy the new experience.

The enjoyment hadn't lasted too long the following morning. He had followed the SatNav directions to Tidworth and had been dismayed when the infernal machine took him onto the British motorway system. He had survived the hour and a half journey but had ended it convinced that he too needed a driving course, not so much to learn to drive, but to understand British road usage, he'd tried to adapt his US-learned driving habits but had on more than one occasion received a warning blast from other drivers' car horns and at least three indignantly flashing sets of headlights to tell him that he'd done something wrong.. He'd have to mention that to Martinez! He grinned as he thought of his young Yeoman and her probable reaction to seeing him among the spectators at the parade, and see him she would. He was prepared to wager that amongst the mass of khaki uniforms his and Martinez' Dress Whites would stand out like sore thumbs. White bandaged sore thumbs at that, he grinned at the whimsy of his thoughts.

Eventually cleared through security, a different regiment this time he noted, their black berets with a silver representation of a World War One tank as a badge giving him a clue they belonged to an armoured regiment.

Reassuring the Lance Corporal who had checked his ID that he could find Three Eight Regiment's lines, by dint of following the traffic stream, Harm had acknowledged the NCO's butt-salute and headed for the Gunners' barracks.

Following the instructions of another NCO, this time in khaki service dress and with a blue 'RP' brassard on his left arm, Harm parked the rental and followed the stream of foot traffic towards the parade ground in the centre of the barracks area.

To his surprise a long bank of temporary bleachers had been erected and was already filling with spectators, and as he had expected Martinez was easy to spot. And so from the expression on her face was he! Harm fought down the desire to chuckle as Martinez rose to her feet and turned to face him.

"G...good m... morning, sir!" she stuttered as she saluted.

"Good morning, Martinez!" he returned her salute and then cocking an eye upwards he remarked "Looks like we've got a nice day for it!"

"Yes sir! Sir... what are you doing here?" she blurted out, and then realising what she'd said, how she'd said it, and to whom she'd said it, she flushed crimson, froze into a brace and shut her eyes, waiting for her doom.

"Oh... It looked like a nice day, so I thought I'd come down and see your Bombardier get his medal," Harm replied mildly, "So relax Yeoman Two, let's sit down and allow the British Army to show us how it's done."

"Yes, sir." Julia said faintly, and taking Harm at his word, she sank down onto the bench behind her, not sure if her legs were going to support her any longer. "How... how did you get down here... Of, yes, dumb question. That's why you wanted a rental! I would have been happy to give you a ride down here sir!"

"Yeah, I guessed you would, but you've got plans for the weekend, and mine are more nebulous... I don't know whether I'm staying down here or heading back up to London."

"Oh."

"Oh?"

"Yes sir, just 'oh'," Martinez grinned.

Before Harm could say anything else there came a double roll of drums and to a blare of military music a band dressed in dark blue uniforms and wearing black fur busbies marched onto the parade ground and took up station at the far side of the square, directly in front of the saluting dais.

After falling silent for a minute or so, the drums started another roll and from both flanks of the square the four batteries of Three Eight Regiment marched on.

The parade went as such parades usually do, the RSM handed over to the Adjutant, who fell in the officers and then handed over to the CO. There was then a wait, filled in by band music, until a staff car pulled smoothly up to the dais and a very much be-medalled and very senior officer dismounted from the car, and mounted the steps to the dais. Then amid a flurry of salutes he spoke briefly to the CO and then climbed down the steps and with a comet-like trail of ADC, CO and Adjutant, he strolled along the front rank of the regiment stopping here and there for a word with an individual soldier.

It seemed to take forever for him to pass through the ranks, and Harm winced inwardly at the strain the troops must be feeling until he realised that the General was inspecting one battery at a time, the others moving from attention to parade rest to attention and back to parade rest as the inspection progressed.

At length the General returned to the dais, but instead of mounting the steps, he stood in front of it as an Aide approached and stood next to him. From his position behind the CO the RSM raised his voice to a stentorian bellow, "Bombardier Walker!"

Johnny's answering "Sir!" although full voiced sounded thin and reedy in comparison, but there was nothing to carp at in his bearing as he fell out from his position in the ranks and marched across the square to halt in front of the General, where they exchanged salutes.

The loudspeaker crackled into life and a voice began to read the citation that accompanied the medal,

"_On the fourteenth of September Two Thousand and Four, Bombardier Timothy Walker was the driver of a Landrover that formed part of a two vehicle administrative detail from Regimental Headquarters, Thirty Eighth Regiment Royal Artillery, to dispersed battery locations situated to the south of the city of Basra in the republic of Iraq._

_At approximately eleven hundred hours while the detail was passing through an area of Basra known as Balad Majram the detail came under attack. An improvised explosive device targeted the lead vehicle, instantly killing the commander and disabling the driver and vehicle. Simultaneously the second vehicle, driven by Bombardier Walker came under heavy and sustained small arms and machine gun fire that disabled that vehicle and wounded the vehicle commander._

_Bombardier Walker, with complete disregard for his own safety, left the cover of his vehicle and while targeted by small-arms and machine gun fire crossed open ground,and directed the unwounded survivor of the lead vehicle to provide covering fire, rescued the injured driver of the lead vehicle and then carrying the casualty he led the other survivor back to the shelter of his own vehicle._

_Bombardier Walker, showing coolness under fire and leadership qualities beyond those expected of his rank and experience rallied the two other uninjured survivors of the detail and organised a defensive position while at the same time he treated the wounds of his vehicle commander and those of the driver of the lead vehicle, thereby saving their lives._

_Bombardier Walker and the two Gunners with him held off repeated attempts by insurgents to close to hand to hand combat, and also directed support from both ground and air assets, until the insurgents, having suffered heavy casualties withdrew, allowing a relieving force to arrive at the ambush site._

_Bombardier Walker's actions on that day undoubtedly saved the lives of the __survivors of the initial ambush, and greatly contributed to the repulse of the insurgent forces. In recognition of his actions above and beyond his rank and experience, he is awarded the Military Cross. Bombardier Walker's actions were in the highest tradition of the British Army and reflect great credit on himself, the Royal Regiment of Artillery and upon the British Army! God Save the Queen!_"

A further flurry of salutes concluded the medal award as the General spoke a few words of congratulations to Johnny and then shook his hand. Johnny, almost crimson from embarrassment pivoted away from the General and marched determinedly back to take up his position in the ranks.

The award was followed by a march-past of the Regiment, each sub-unit in turn delivering a crisp 'Eyes Right' as they passed the saluting dais where the General stood, returning the paying of compliments with a salute. The march past was followed by the CO ordering an "Advance in Review Order" followed by a "General Salute".

The General departing, the CO handed the parade over to the Adjutant, and the officers having fallen out, the regiment, under the command of the RSM marched off the square, and once that had been completed the spectators began to mingle chatting happily about the spectacle they had just witnessed. Most of them were in uniform, and so from the nature of the compliments that he overheard Harm could tell that the parade had gone well, that turn out and drill were of the expected high standard. Martinez he noted kept looking in the direction in which Bombardier Walker had disappeared, while he hung back until the very senior officer who was occupying Colonel Mike's attention clambered stiffly into the back of his waiting staff car, which smoothly pulled away from the rear of the saluting dais.

Harm nodded a farewell to Martinez, "I'll leave you to greet your hero in private," he teased her, feeling amply rewarded by the blush that mounted to her cheeks. Climbing down from the bleachers he approached the small knot of officers, and was gratified to see his target for the day, Lieutenant Sue Marshall, the lively blonde that Gill Shephard had introduced him to in the Mess on his first night at Tidworth. But first the formalities must be dealt with.

"Good morning, Colonel," Harm waited until a natural break in the conversation to attract Colonel Mike's attention. That officer turning on his heel faced his unexpected visitor with quickly masked surprise and saluted.

Harm returned the salute, but said as he did so, "I wish you wouldn't do that Colonel, I am here totally unofficially, and for that I apologise, for gate-crashing a special day for your Regiment!"

"Not at all sir," Colonel Mike smiled with every appearance of happiness, "We're delighted to have you join us! And I have to salute you, you know; you still outrank me!"

"I guess so," Harm admitted, but this is your command!"

"And does that make a difference?" Colonel Mike inquired.

"To me it does!" Harm admitted, "Especially after seeing a formation like the one we've just seen! Most impressive!"

Colonel Mike almost visibly swelled with pride, as if he were a proud father basking the in the praise of his newborn, "Yes, they didn't put on too bad a show, did they?"he beamed, "Tolerably steady on parade, I thought."

"That they were, Colonel, that they were!" Harm agreed readily, and the troops had been steady. To his admittedly unaccustomed eye, their drill had matched that which he had witnessed performed by the Guards at Horse Guards Parade his first weekend in England.

Colonel Mike nodded with satisfaction, although he had a suspicion that the American Navy Captain didn't know a Left Form from a hole in the ground, it was good to hear his men's efforts acknowledged.

"Are you joining us for lunch, Captain?" the CO inquired.

"Uh... I... No... I mean I'm not an invited guest, and I wasn't expecting..."

"Nonsense! It's not much, just a buffet, but I can't have you going away thinking the regiment is inhospitable!" He cast his eye around and a smile lit up his face, "Sue! Come and look after Captain Rabb, will you! Show him where we've hidden the food and drink!"

"Of course, Colonel!" Sue answered obligingly and smiled up at Harm "Welcome back, sir!"

"Good morning, Lieutenant," Harm answered, hanging back slightly to allow Colonel Mike to return to his previous conversation. "Your CO must be a mind reader, I was hoping for the chance of a word with you."

"Oh?" Sue asked innocently, although she had an idea, or maybe a hope, of what he was about to say.

"I was hoping that you might still be in touch with Captain Shephard... I understand she's posted to London now... and ask her if she would mind me contacting her?"

Sue's face split in the widest grin he'd ever seen, "Why don't you ask her yourself?" she said and then before he could answer she looked over her shoulder and called out, her voice ringing out penetratingly clear, "Oh, Gill... there's a rather dishy sailor here who wants a word with you!"


	15. Chapter 15

**15**

For a split second Harm stood staring at Sue in horrified disbelief and then as the import of what she had said sank in he felt his ears burn and knew that without doubt they were glowing bright red. But it was impossible not follow the direction of Sue's gaze to where a stricken Gill stood, temporarily isolated as the group of officers to whom she had been talking all of whom, more or less by instinct, fell back a step, and who were now staring at her with varied expressions of surprise and even shock on their faces, all except of course Marie Westwood who was staring between the visiting officer and Gill, with that infuriating little smug smile that she habitually wore whenever she enjoyed another's discomfort.

Gill's head had swung around at the first sound of Sue's voice and her face at first went white as she recognised the tall American in the white uniform and then Sue's words sent the blood rushing to her face and all she could do was stare in red-faced and wide-eyed horror at her so-called friend, whom she was going to kill – slowly, and try to gather her nerves as the US Navy Captain turned and took a hesitant step towards her.

Gill briefly closed her eyes and then opened them to see Harmon Rabb regarding her with an expression, and a look in his eyes that spoke not only of his shared embarrassment but also sympathy and uncertainty and something like nervousness. However when he spoke, his voice was low-pitched and full of understanding, "Good morning, Captain Shephard, it's good to see you again!" as he held out his hand.

"Thank you, sir, it's good to see you again too,"Gill replied in an instinctive reaction but almost tonelessly as she fought for self-control.

Colonel Mike, whose attention had been attracted, like everyone else, by the clarity of Sue's call, glanced at his Adjutant, "Ah... so that's why Captain Rabb decided to grace us with his presence," he said tolerantly, "But Tony, try and find something for young Sue to do, to keep her out of further mischief, that really was quite naughty of her. Even if she did do it with the best of motives!"

"Yes, sir," Tony Latham replied. He could hardly believe his ears when Sue had piped up and felt torn between laughing out loud and strangling her on Gill's behalf. And he had never, never in his life seen a senior officer's ears turn that brightly crimson!

As the blood ceased pounding quite so loudly in her ears, Gill started to make sense of what Captain Rabb was saying quietly to her, "I'm sorry, this must be really difficult for you, but I had no idea she was going to do that! But if we walk away from each other now..." He gave a mini-shrug and a look asking for understanding before he took a breath and continued, "Look, your friend is about to take me to where they've hidden the food and drink, according to Colonel Mike, would you care to walk with us?"

Gill would rather have been in any other place on earth, but Captain Rabb was perfectly correct, to snub him now, especially after Sue's intervention, would only fuel rumour of the worst kind, and so with a defiantly raised face she replied in cool, but perfectly audible tones, "Thank you, sir. I would enjoy that!" and turning, fell into place at his right elbow, but as they rejoined the waiting Sue, Gill shot a venom-filled glance at Sue, who intercepted it, but merely gave a gurgle of amused laughter at the threat it contained. "But first, I just need to say well done to Bombardier Walker!"

"Of course!" Harm replied, "And I need to tell him Bravo Zulu, too!"

"Bravo Zulu?" Gill inquired, momentarily diverted.

"Uh... yeah, Navy-speak for well done," Harm explained slightly diffidently.

"Ah, perhaps an ordinary 'well done' or 'congratulations' might be better, sir?" Gill suggested. "After all, he may not be familiar with US Navy slang."

"Oh, I wouldn't want to bet on that!" Harm smiled nodding to where Bombardier Walker could be seen talking quietly to Yeoman Two Martinez.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

As soon as he fallen out from the ranks, Johnny Walker had to endure a round of back-slapping and good natured joking at his expense, from his friends along with more general demands that he set 'em up in the NAAFI bar. The latter he was able to avoid by a grinning shake of his head and the excuse, "Sorry, no can do. Ma and sisters are here!" 'and Julia' he added silently. He had spotted her on the stand next to the tall figure of her boss. Julia he could understand coming to see his award, he would have been disappointed if she hadn't, after the last two successful weekends they had spent together, but he was at a loss to explain her boss' presence. That is until he approached the slim figure in US Navy Summer Whites. His eyes flitted around, trying to spot the American Navy Captain, and he almost missed a step as he saw that he was shaking hands with Captain Shephard. Now that was another face he hadn't expected to see, but was glad that she had made the effort to come down from London. He muttered a quick "Heads up! Incoming!" to Julia as he saw the three officers veer in his direction, and with a brief smile for Julia, he turned to face them, freezing into the attention position, and firing off a salute that would have gladdened the RSM's heart had he seen it, "Good morning,sir, ladies!"

"Good morning, Bombardier!" Harm said warmly and, as senior officer, returning the salute. "We won't keep you long, I just stopped by to say well done," he shot a quick look at Gill, "and congratulations. By the sound of it, that was well done!"

"Sir!" A bright red Johnny managed.

"Indeed, Bom," Gill smiled, "It was very well, done. Congratulations!"

"Thank you, ma'am!" an even more embarrassed Bombardier Walker replied.

"Well, we'll leave you to get over the shock," Gill smiled and with a nod to Julia, "Petty Officer."

"Ma'am!" Julia answered, a smile as wide as the Mississippi on her face as she looked at Johnny.

"Yeah, looks like you've got company headed your way," Harm said looking over Johnny's shoulder at a group of three women who had nervously come to a halt and were obviously waiting for a chance to speak with Johnny, who looked over his shoulder, "Ma!" he exclaimed and then remembering military etiquette, he turned back towards Harm, "Thank you, sir!" he repeated as he produced a second Pirbright-Perfect salute.

"Bombardier," Harm said gravely as he returned the salute, and then as Johnny towards his mother he said to Gill and Sue, "Shall we?"

"Of course, sir!" Sue answered, "This way if you please!"

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

"Hello Timothy," His mother smiled as she subjected him to a brief hug, "I suppose congratulations are in order... but don't you ever do anything so dangerous again!"

Johnny freed himself from his mother's arms, "I won't, Ma, I promise. One medal is more than enough! Honest!"

"Yes, don't you ever go frightening us like that again!" One of the younger women, who bore a resemblance to Johnny interjected as she threw herself at him and planted a smacking kiss on his cheek.

"Behave yourself, Zoe Walker!" Johnny frowned once he'd unwound her arms from around his neck, braced himself and turned resignedly to the other young woman, "C'mon then, get it over with!"

"No scolding from me!" the last of the trio said as she planted a light kiss on her other cheek, "But you've been keeping more than one secret, haven't you?" she asked as she looked over Johnny's shoulder straight at Julia.

"Not really," he demurred, "Ma, Zoe, Ali … uh... Alison," he corrected himself at his mother's frown, "I'd like you all to meet Yeoman Second Class, Martinez. Julia, this is my mother and two of my sisters, Zoe and Alison."

"Ma'am, pleased to meet you," Julia managed as she felt herself reddening under the gaze of three pairs of curious eyes.

"Nonsense!" Mrs Walker announced as she stepped forward to offer her hand. So you're the mysterious Julia that our Timothy has been telling me so much about these past few weeks!"

"He... he has, I mean... I am, ma'am? Uh... I mean, I guess so," Julia stuttered casting an anguished but silent plea for help in Johnny's direction.

"Just an occasional word, is all Julia, Ma's exaggerating!" he frowned in an effort to repress his broadly smiling mother. "And talking of people, where's Stephanie? I knew Anne couldn't make it, she's in New York, but I thought Stephanie was coming with you?"

"She was!" Alison responded, "right up until six this morning, when she 'phoned me, to tell Ma that she couldn't come. Apparently Petey suddenly developed an ear infection overnight and she had take him to the doctor!"

"Suddenly? Huh, conveniently!" if you ask me!" Zoe muttered rebelliously and just loud enough for Julia to overhear and then noticing that the pretty American sailor was looking at her speculatively, she moved closer and in an undertone commented, "Sorry about that, you weren't meant to hear. Don't want to drag you into family squabbles."

"No... that's all right, I was just a bit lost with all the names being thrown around..."

"Oh, OK, I'll try to fill you in, but we'd better walk while we talk, Ma's got a lunch booked for us at a pub a couple of miles away"

"The George at Thruxton?" Julia asked.

"Yes! But how did you... oh... Tim, of course!"

"Yeah, he took me there on our first date," Julia admitted with a smile, "But what's all this about Petey, Anne and Stephanie...?"

"Oh, right. Well Stephanie's the eldest of us, she's married to James - never Jimmy, God forbid - some sort of big-shot money-making merchant banker – in both senses of the word – in London. She's thinks she's too good to associate with us commoners now. She such a stuck-up bitch, so I was surprised when she said she'd come to the parade, I suppose she thought having a Military Cross hero for a brother would look good to her toffee-nosed friends. So when she called this morning to say that Petey – that's her three year old, a spoiled brat if there ever was one – was sick, I wasn't particularly surprised!"

"Ah... OK, got it." Julia had sisters of her own, none of them quite as bad as Zoe had made Stephanie out to be, but there were underlying tensions that now and then erupted. "And Anne?" she asked.

"Oh... Anne's a real sweetie. She's married too, to an Air Traffic Controller at Heathrow. She was on a layover in New York last night, otherwise she would have been here; she's a flight attendant for one of the big airlines."

"And then there's Alison and you?"

"Oh, neither of us is married, although Alison's been engaged for years – well, eighteen months or so. She and her fiancé are waiting to get married until they can afford to put a deposit down on a house... I keep telling her that if they do, the they'll never get married." She chuckled at the puzzled expression on Julia's face. "It's house prices, they keep going up faster than Ali and Mike can save!"

They strolled on a few paces in silence until Zoe asked, "And what about you?"

Julia laughed, "Oh... look, I know I'm going to get grilled by your mom, so if you don't mind, I think I'll keep my story to myself for a while, and then tell you all together!"

"That's a deal, but don't think you're going to get out of it, 'cos I'm not going to let you forget!"

"No... I don't expect you will!" Julia answered, drawing a crack of laughter from Zoe.

Johnny heard the laugh and glanced back over his shoulder, relieved to see that Julia and Zoe, by far the most judgemental of his sisters, appeared to be getting on so well.

Mrs Walker caught his glance and said with a smile, "Your Julia seems like a nice girl, Timothy?"

Johnny looked at his mother in fond exasperation, "Back off Ma, I expect Julia will tell you all about herself just as soon as she feels comfortable. In the meantime stop trying wheedle scraps out of me, 'cos you aren't getting any!"

"You are a very naughty boy!" his Ma exclaimed, but with a twinkle in her eye.

"Ma! If you use those words, out loud, in front of Julia, I'll... I'll... I'll..."

"You'll what, Timothy Walker?" his Ma inquired.

"I don't know yet," Johnny admitted in crestfallen tones, "I was still trying to think of something bad enough!"

Mrs Walker broke into a delighted chuckle, "Never mind, here we are!" she indicated the gold coloured Isuzu Trooper.

"Wow, I know you said you were thinking about buying a new car, Ma, but this?" Johnny asked in surprise.

"Now, don't you start, Timothy Walker!"

"I'm not, Ma. In fact if you feel comfortable driving it, then good for you, as far as I've heard these are pretty safe, pretty rugged vehicles!"

"Yes, and it's a diesel engine, so that makes it more economical..."

xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx

The walk from the square would have passed in almost complete silence as both Harm and Gill sought to come to terms with their feelings, had it not been for Sue's stream of inconsequential chatter, but focussed mostly, it must be said, on the parade that had just ended.

Harm gritted his teeth and mostly ignored Sue's comments, injecting only a "Yes, Lieutenant,"" or "No Lieutenant" where it seemed appropriate. It was ill-mannered of him, but he was still angry with her, and the best part was that because he out-ranked her, she couldn't call him on his behaviour. He took a small crumb of comfort from that thought.. He was suddenly unsure of his future course of action. He had thought to either get a contact telephone number from Sue, or persuade her to 'phone Gill and and pass his number to her. Now, unexpectedly faced with Gill in the flesh, he felt as shy as a High School freshman trying to work up enough courage to ask a cheerleader to the Summer Dance.

Gill too was quiet as she alternated between forming plans for Sue's imminent, messy and extremely painful demise, and wondering what her reaction should be if Captain Rabb, Harm, was going to ask her for a date. She was almost certain he was, otherwise why would he have travelled down to Tidworth, just to ask Sue about her, and to have told her that he, Harm, wanted to speak to her, Gill, in such a public forum was... was... was... unforgivable! And so typically damned American! Full speed ahead and damn the torpedoes! One of their admirals was supposed to have said that at one time, Harmon Bloody Rabb apparently had absorbed that absurd mentality at that absurd academy of which he was so absurdly bloody proud!

But then again, she told herself, he had looked as shocked and almost as embarrassed as he'd felt when Sue Marshall opened her bloody big mouth! And he had looked quite cute, and totally dumbstruck, with his ears flaming that particular shade of crimson, his eyes wide open and his chin practically on his chest! No, although he was the cause of her embarrassment, it wasn't right to hold him responsible. No, the credit for that little episode belonged solely to Susan Patricia Bloody Marshall! But she still needed to find a graceful, and gentle way of letting him down gently...

By the time Gill reached her conclusion, they reached the Mess and passed into the ante-room, where a cold buffet had been laid out on tables covered by snow-white linen. Gill grimaced as she placed her Number One Dress Hat on a side table already covered by other hats, and Harm taking his lead from her placed his cover on the same table, reflecting that at least he would have no problem in identifying his one, white cover, from all the others in their regimental colours.

The reasons for Gill's grimace became clear when she indicated the buffet, "I'm afraid that it's mostly just fit for meat-eaters," she half apologised, but I hope you'll be able to find something..."

"Oh, I'm sure he will!" Sue smiled, "And while you two are making your choice, I'll get the drinks in! Vodka tonic for you Gill?"

"Yes! And make it a long double!" Gill answered.

"And Captain Rabb?"

"Oh... I'll just have a pint of shandy... I think you call it?"

"One pint of shandy coming right up," Sue turned towards the bar but then hesitated and looked over her shoulder, "Now play nicely, and Gill don't be too hard on him!" With that the blonde dropped an outrageous wink at Harm and ignoring the dagger glare from Gill continued on her way to the bar.

Gill blushed again and turned to Harm, "I'm sorry..." she began.

"What for? You haven't done anything to be sorry for!" Harm interrupted her.

"I was going to apologise for Sue's appalling behaviour!" Gill retorted, "Not my own. As you so rightly say, I have nothing to apologise for!"

"No you haven't," Harm said, apparently unfazed by the edge to Gills voice, "And as you cannot be held responsible for your friend's behaviour, I don't see that you have to apologise for her. You're not her mother and she's not a child. Your friend can take responsibility for her actions."

"Soon to be my ex-friend, or maybe even my late friend!" Gill gritted through her teeth, but despite her embarrassment fuelled anger she warmed to the note of humour in his voice, and in fact Harm was beginning to see the funny side of Sue's blatant attempts at match making, even down to leaving them alone for this little interlude while she went to the bar. Allied to that was also the feeling of peace and contentment that came over him after just a few minutes in Gill's company.

Gill took a grip on her temper, and with a fair pretence at coolness asked, "So, assuming Sue was telling the truth – even if it was at the top of her voice!" she glowered for an instant at the memory, "What was it you wanted to say to me?"

"Actually, I didn't say that," Harm began to explain, "And in fact, I hadn't seen you among the crowd. The fact is I didn't expect to see you, I heard you'd been posted. And I actually came down here today to see Sue..." he grinned mischievously as he saw Gill's face start to darken, "specifically to ask her for your contact details, or to pass on my contact details to you!"

Gill was about to reply that from Harm's point of view that it was just as well that she had been there. There would have been no way she would have agreed to Sue passing on her contact number or address, and even less likelihood that she would have made use of Harm's details, but something stopped her. A realisation that if she had said those words, that she would not have been telling the truth, but she would have been speaking from anger, and also the realisation that no matter how she phrased it, those sentiments would cause hurt to the tall sailor standing in front of her. And no matter how undecided she might be about having any further contact with him, she realised, pretty much to her own surprise, that she didn't want to cause him hurt.

"I see..." she eventually said slowly and to her surprise saw a look of relief wash over Harm's face. Studying him more critically she saw more than that, she suddenly became aware of a vulnerability in his eyes, and the fear of receiving further hurt. Some woman, she decided, had hurt him badly, and in the not too distant past.

"So... now we've got that hurdle cleared... I can ask you the other question that I would have asked over the 'phone back in London..."

'Oh God, he _is_ going to ask me for a date!' a despairing Gill thought, 'And I don't know whether I want him to or not!"

"I was wondering, if you'd like to have dinner with me tomorrow evening?" Harm asked nervously and then held his breath as he waited for her reply.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Gill said almost automatically, "But I'm riding out early Monday morning, and I do need an early night if I'm going to do that..."

"Oh... I see..." Harm's face fell and he fumbled in his tunic pocket for his card, but then stopped as an even riskier thought crossed his mind, "Uh... look... I... uh know it's short notice... but if you can't do tomorrow evening, how about dinner this evening?" he ended on a hopeful note.

"No... I'm sorry, I really am... I've already made arrangements to have dinner with Sue..."

"Oh, I'm so glad you brought that up!" Sue said disingenuously and with a bright artificial smile, as she arrived with a small tray holding their drinks, "It's a little bit awkward, and I'm really embarrassed to do this, and I feel such a fool... It's just that Alexander, you know from Burns' Night? Well, he's just got back from his tour and called me last night. And asked me to dinner this evening. And Gill I'm so sorry, I was so excited to hear his voice again that I clean forgot about our deal for this evening..." she let her voice trail off on an almost pleading note, and with such a puppy-dog expression in her eyes that Harm nearly laughed out loud at her patently transparent excuse.

Gill glared at her friend again, but with the ground cut from beneath her feet by this betrayal, all she could do was to muster a smile and say with the best appearance of good grace that she could, "In that case Captain Rabb, as I appear to have become Sue's second best choice for dinner, I will gladly accept your invitation!"

Harm smiled and he let out the breath he didn't even know he was holding. "So... do you have any preferences... I really don't know this area very well..."

"It will have to be somewhere very casual," Gill conceded, "I haven't exactly brought any of my Sunday best, and it will have to be quite early, as I don't want to be too late back to London. Sue, what's the name of that bistro pub at Newton Tony, they still do quite decent food, don't they?"

"Oh... you mean the Malet Arms? Yes, they do, and from what I've heard, quite an inventive vegetarian menu," Sue added in a helpful sort of voice.

"H'mm... will you excuse us a moment please, Captain Rabb?" Gill asked with a polite smile, and taking Sue's elbow in a deceptively firm grip, she steered Sue in the direction of the Ladies Toilets. Once she had closed the door behind them a quick check reassured Gill that they were alone , and she released Sue's elbow.

"Thank God for that!" Sue complained rubbing the afflicted part, "That was beginning to hurt!"

"Good!" Gill said savagely, "And that's just a foretaste of what's coming your way, lady!"

"Why, Gill, whatever do you mean?" Sue asked with a wide-eyed and innocent stare.

"I mean I'm not going to get mad at you, I'm going to get even! Firstly for embarrassing me and poor Captain Rabb in front of the entire regiment. And then for that... that... that blatant act of treason out there!" Gill indicated the rough direction of the ante-room.

"But you were the one who said yes to his invitation to dinner," Sue said smugly, "and you must have wanted to, on some level, because even without the excuse of having dinner with me, you could have said 'no' if you really wanted to!"

"That's as may be!" Gill fumed, "But it's entirely beside the point. I'm still really pissed at you Sue Marshall, and I think you've forgotten where I work! So if your next posting turns out to be Benbecula, then you'll only have yourself to blame!" And then before giving Sue a chance to reply and with something that looked to that giggling blonde's eye distinctly like a flounce, Gill pivoted and on her heel and left Sue alone to mop her streaming eyes and recover her breath and poise.

When Gill returned to the ante-room she found that Harm had been accosted by Colonel Mike, and the Very Senior General, whose curiosity had been piqued by the presence of the single white uniform amongst the press of khaki and his own ceremonial blue Frock Coat. Gill hovered just out of earshot, attaching herself to a group of regimental officers, all wanting to grill her about her 'dishy sailor'. Gill fended off their questions and dismissed their more outrageous comments, all the while keeping a wary eye on Harm and waiting for the General to move on, and simultaneously wishing she she'd throttled Sue Marshall.

To Gill's relief the old warrior moved on after a couple of minutes, and she saw Harm visibly relax, "Phew!" he said as she rejoined him, "I'd sooner fly an Alpha Strike over Afghanistan than do that again!"

"Really?"

"Hell, yes!" Harm said with a grin, "At least when I'm in the air I know what I'm doing, but the British Army seems to have so many shibboleths that every time I speak with one of their officers, I'm afraid of saying the wrong thing..." he finished teasingly.

Gill, however, saw the bait dangling and refused to rise to it. "H'mm... yes, you do have a tendency to put your foot in your mouth from time to time," she agreed with just the hint of a grin.

"Gillian Shephard, I saw that! You are so busted!" Harm chuckled.

"I have no idea what you're talking about!" Gill protested with as straight a face as she could manage.

"Talking about no idea, and putting feet in mouth, where's Sue? You haven't killed her have you?"

"No..." Gill replied mournfully, "I left her in one piece and giggling entirely unrepentantly in the loo, but I did threaten her that her next posting would be Benbecula!"

"Where's that? Or should it be what's that?"

"Oh, it's a missile range on one of the Outer Hebrides Islands, off the West Coast of Scotland in the middle of the Atlantic... a thoroughly nasty, wet and cold posting..." Gill said dreamily.

"Remind me never to get into your bad books!" Harm said in mock alarm, "You're bad!"

"Yes, I am, aren't I?" Gill remarked smugly.

"So... changing the subject, are we going to eat at this Malet Arms? If so, do I need to make a reservation for a table, and if you're in a rush to get back to London, then if we take two cars, you wouldn't have to come back here to collect yours..."

"You have a car now?" Gill asked in mild surprise.

"Just a rental for the weekend... and given that I still haven't gotten back into being comfortable driving on the wrong side of the road, maybe it's just as well you've got your own car here!"

"H'mm, probably!" Gill agreed, "Let's see if we can find you a phone number for the pub!"

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Julia stood back a little as Johnny – she couldn't get her head around calling him Timothy, or even Tim – submitted to a round of farewell hugs and kisses from his mother and two sisters. But finally they tore themselves away and climbed back into the family Isuzu.

"That was well embarrassing!" a red-faced Johnny half grinned and half complained, jerking his chin the direction of the Regimental Guard Room, where the Provost Sergeant and half a dozen grinning RPs have every indication of having watched the show with massive enjoyment, "Those sods are going to take the piss out of me for weeks now!" he grumbled.

"Oh, I don't know about that," Julia said as she fell into step beside him, "Oh.. this way..." she directed him to the parked Vectra, one of the few cars, other than a dark blue Mondeo left in the temporary car park.

"Uh... look, I really need to get out of this ginger suit," Johnny protested.

"Yeah, and I need to get out of this ice-cream seller's outfit, but I need you to give me a lead into Amesbury, so I thought that if I take you round to your barracks, then you can get changed, pick up your car, and then we can get off base for what's left of the day."

"Sounds good to me! You remember where the Battery lines are?"

"I'm sure you can direct me if I get lost on the way!" Julia laughed.

"Yeah, I reckon I can manage that... but tell me, what's so special about Amesbury?"

"Oh... I've booked a room at the George Inn on the High Street, and I'm not sure exactly how to find it..."

Johnny laughed in his turn, "Julia, the High Street is about the only Street in Amesbury! I believe it's what used to be what you colonials call a one horse town, except that the horse died! I cannot believe you booked a room there; there is absolutely nothing to do in Amesbury, not even on a Saturday night!"

"Well, in that case," Julia said placidly as she stopped the car outside Johnny's barracks, "I'm sure we're quite clever enough to make our own entertainment!"

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Harm guided Gill across the car park to the entrance to the Malet Arms, a surprisingly small white painted two storey building with dormer windows in the roof indicating a third storey, but with a larger and much more modern extension built onto one end.

Harm cast a speculative eye at the cryptic 'Duck or Grouse' sign on the door lintel, "What's that all about?" he asked Gill.

Gill looked at the six feet four inch sailor alongside her and decided not to tease him on this occasion, "It's a warning that this place has got low ceilings, it gives you a choice, duck, that is lower your head, or you can grouse about it if you don't!"

"Yeah, but grouse? I thought that was a bird, like a pheasant or a partridge or something..."

"It is a bird when it's a noun," Gill explained carefully, "but when it's a verb it means to grumble or complain. And I can guarantee you if you forget to duck under one of those old hammer beams, you'll be grousing soon enough! The sign is a bit of a pun..." she added.

"So the unsuspecting stranger who cracks his head on one of those beams doubtless provides hours of amusement to those people in on the joke?" Harm replied.

"Very probably," Gill agreed.

"So, I suppose I owe you my thanks for saving my skull?" Harm said as he cautiously ducked under one of the aforesaid hammer beams.

"Well, not your head, not exactly," Gill said, her eyes dancing, "But I'd hate for you to get blood on that lovely blue shirt!" And it was a lovely shirt, Gill decided. It brought out the blue in his eyes, and as the evening was warm enough for him to go without a jacket or sweater it revealed enough of his body without being overly tight, especially across his shoulders and on his upper arms, that Gill almost licked her lips. There was no doubt about it in Gill Shephard's mind, Harmon Rabb was not one of those guys that was made to look good by his uniform, he was on of those guys who made his uniform – and anything else he chose to wear – look good, damned good!

While she had been day-dreaming Harm had spoken to the barman, and now with a pair of menus in one hand, he guided Gill to a side table, seated her, handed her a menu and said, "They'll take our order out here, and then walk us into the restaurant when they're about ready to serve. In the meantime, what would you like to drink?"

"Oh... just a tonic water, with ice and a slice, please" Gill said.

Fighting down the pang that her choice of drinks caused him, it was one of Mac's favourites, Harm smiled and with a murmured, be right back, crossed the room again to the bar, successfully negotiating the ceiling beams on the way there and back.

Studying the vegetarian options of the menu, Harm was surprised to see one item, "Now that I didn't expect!" he exclaimed out loud.

"What's that?" Gill asked.

"Butternut Squash Risotto," Harm explained, "I didn't think civilisation had reached this far!"

"Oh, it did... quite a long time ago..." Gill said sadly, "but we've been invaded by the barbarians, and we're sinking back into the dark ages... the importing of such barbaric dishes is only symptom of the rot..."

Harm looked at her she had said all that with such a straight face, that for a moment he almost believed her. Then he saw again the laughter dancing in her eyes, and realised that he had very nearly fallen victim to the dry British sense of humour – again!


	16. Chapter 16

**16**

The evening passed all too quickly for Harm, he was vaguely aware that the food was good and the service slick, but his attention was completely taken up by his dinner companion.

His opening gambit, over a starter of melon and tomato salad was simple, "Tell me about yourself," he invited her.

"Nothing much to tell," she demurred, "what you see is what you get: Gillian Shephard, Captain Royal Artillery, age... thirtyish, single, no notable vices. _C'est tout_!" She grinned.

Harm smiled back, "There's got to be more?" he asked.

"Like what?" Gill asked, her forehead wrinkling.

"Well... parents, family, school, hobbies, boyfriends hiding in the shadows..."

"Oh... I don't suppose 'none of the above' is an option?"

"Well... if you really don't want to say, then I shan't push," Harm conceded, but the note of disappointment in his voice registered with Gill.

She took a sip of her mineral water and said, "Oh, do you really want to know? You're not just being polite?Most men are happy to get the basic information and then talk about themselves for the rest of the evening!"

"Yeah, but part of that is that they don't want to appear to be too nosey. But us attorneys, well, we earn our living being nosey, and so, professional curiosity aside, I really would like to know," Harm persisted gently.

"Well... let's see... Family, I think you said... Well, there's Mummy and Daddy, he's the vicar of a rural parish near Aylesbury in Buckinghamshire... a real old sweetie... Mummy on the other hand, is a professional vicar's wife, an absolute terror, she rules the parish with a benevolent rod of iron, takes charge of all the church activities, supervises the flower roster, organises the harvest festival, and plays the organ."

"She sounds a formidable lady!" Harm said slightly taken aback.

"Oh, she can be!" Gill agreed, "but really she's just as sweet as Daddy. Then there's Granny, who I adore, she's into her nineties now, but still the sharpest knife in anybody's kitchen drawer. She's the reason I'm in the army!"

"Oh... how's that?"

"Well... during the war, the Second World War, that is, she took a commission in the Wrens – oh, that's the Women's Royal Naval Service, WRNS, pronounced Wrens, and was posted to Naval Operators Headquarters in London. That's where she met Granddad, he was a Captain in the Navy, they worked together for a while, and then ended up married. He died about twelve years ago... He was a bit older than Granny. She was his second wife. His first wife was killed in the bombing..."

"I see," Harm said.

"Do you? Really?" Gill challenged him gently.

"Yes, I think so... My mother remarried after my father was shot down over Vietnam – he was a naval aviator too, and when the POWs were returned after the war, he wasn't one of them. So after some years had passed, Mom had him declared legally dead and remarried Frank."

"That must have been hard for you," Gill said.

"I got over it," Harm said a little uncomfortable discussing a part of his life of which he wasn't particularly proud, "It took a while, and I was thoroughly unpleasant to Frank, my Step-Dad, until I did get over it. He deserved better he's a good man who loves and takes very good care of Mom, and she loves him."

"So... any brothers or sisters?" Gill asked.

"No... I figure Mom reckoned that one of me was more than enough! But we're not supposed to be talking about me. We are supposed to be talking about you! So... any brothers or sisters?" he mimicked her question and intonation.

"Just David, my big brother... by two and a bit years. You might get on with him..." she said doubtfully, letting her voice trail off, while she watched him over the rim of her glass as she took another sip of her drink.

"Oh, why?" Harm asked

"He's in the same line of work as yourself, but for our branch – Royal Navy, he's a Lieutenant Commander the Number One on the _Defiant_, one of the new D Class destroyers. He's on anti-piracy patrol at the moment off the East coast of Africa and up into the Red Sea."

"Sounds like a good man!" Harm grinned, "But I suppose it would be too much to hope for in asking whether he's Fleet Air Arm?"

"Lord, no!" Gill spluttered, "He's a thorough-going Fish-head! And I won't tell you what he calls the Fleet Air Arm!"

"Something scurrilous, no doubt!" Harm agreed with a smile and then he frowned slightly, "Just one thing I don't understand: Number One?"

"Oh.. that's a traditional name for the First Lieutenant, Number One, Jimmy the One, or just Jimmy... the second in command, what your people call the XO I think."

"Yeah, that would be it," Harm agreed, and then paused to let the waitress clear away the empty starter plates.

"So... that's all your family?" he resumed once the waitress had retreated,

"Yes, well, apart from Uncle Tommy. He's Granddad's son by his first wife. Now you'd probably get on with him! He was Fleet Air Arm, a gunner on torpedo bombers. His squadron took part in hunting down the Bismark! He emigrated years and years ago to New Zealand. We hear from him about twice a year, other than that all I know of him is what Granny tells me, and an old photograph of him, looking impossibly young, on board the old _Ark Royal._"

Again they allowed the conversation to drop as the waitress returned with their main courses.

"With all that naval heritage, and you telling me that your Grandmother was influential in you joining the army, how come you're not in the Royal Navy?" Harm asked as he picked up his knife and fork.

"You'll probably laugh at me! Gill said defensively, "But the plain truth is I get seasick. Even on the calmest day of the year on a cross-channel ferry, as soon as the ship leaves the quayside, I can be found on my hands and knees hugging a toilet bowl, and there I'll stay until we reach the other side!"

"Why would I laugh? I've been sea-sick a couple of times, and I've seen guys who have had it bad. It's not something I'd wish on anyone, or laugh at!" Harm protested.

Gill looked at him with fresh eyes, "You're not laughing, are you? Or worse, being one of those bluff sea-dog types who do laugh loudly, slap you on the back and insist there's no such thing as sea-sickness and that if you only tried you wouldn't be sick at all!"

"I've met them too! Insensitive sonsabitches!" Harm growled.

"Oh... Thank God for that!" Gill gurgled, "I thought they only infested our Navy!"

"No such luck!" Harm smiled

"OK, Gill said, "Your turn!"

Harm smiled, turn and turn about was fair enough, "Harmon David Rabb, Captain, JAG Corps, United States Navy. Former Aviator. Age... fortyish, single but with a teenage ward I'm trying to adopt. Presently employed as the Naval Force Judge Advocate for the US Navy in and around Europe."

"H'mm... so... I already know you're an only child and that you have a mum and a step-dad, but what do they do?"

"Frank used to be a used-car salesman, but he's gotten a couple of steps up the corporate ladder and he's now a vice-president of Chrysler, and mom owns and runs an art gallery in La Jolla..."

"Oh... I remember that name! Near San Diego, I think you said it was!" At Harm's curious look she went on "I remember because Colonel Mike said he'd been there with Two Nine."

"So he did." Harm agreed. He took a mouthful of the Butternut Squash Risotto, "Hey, this is really good! You should have tried it!"

"No thanks!" Gill shuddered in pretended horror, "I'm quite happy with my plaice!"

They ate in silence for a minute or two before Gill looked cross at Harm, an accusatory gleam in her eye, "Nicely done, my learned friend! But not quite slick enough!"

"Oh?"

"Indeed! 'Oh' That was a nice try at changing the subject, but we'd just gotten onto the interesting part - you - before you tried to sidetrack me by talking about the food!"

"Well, don't you think the food is worth talking about?" Harm asked solemnly.

"What? Yes, yes of course it is! But not while there are better subjects!"

"I agree," Harm said affably, "So tell me, where did you go to school, do you have any hobbies?"

Gill sighed, and put down her fork, "I should have known better! All right, I went to the local village school from age five to eleven, and then to Princess Margaret Grammar School until I was eighteen. Three years at Reading to get my BSc in Bio-Chemistry, and then onto Sandhurst and the Gunners." Gill took another sip of mineral water, "As for hobbies... I haven't really had time for any since I left Reading. I used to swim a lot, I still do, and when I was in my teems I had a love affair with horses, like a lot of girls. And now I'm living at the Troop, I can ride out more or less any day I want. It just means getting up and some ungodly hour of the morning!"

"Zero dark hundred hours?" Harm grinned.

"Yes! Or Oh Christ hundred hours!" Gill chuckled and gasped, "Oh... I haven't just shocked you, have I?"

"No... why should you? Oh... you mean because your a Vicar's daughter? No, not all. One of my best friends used to be a preacher's son, and although he rarely swore or blasphemed – he prided himself on being far too rational for that – he could have been Spock at times – uh... do you know Spock?"

"Yes, of course! I never watched Star Trek, but it was such an iconic series in its day... but you were saying?"

"Oh yes, He prided himself on being Spock-like, but occasionally he could let rip the ripest oaths you've ever heard. Mind you, it took a lot to make him start swearing!"

"I'm sorry," Gill said in a voice of sympathy.

"Why? What for?" A genuinely puzzled Harm asked.

"Well... you used the past tense, he used to be...so I thought you meant he'd died..."

"Oh... no, nothing like that. I don't know what happened but somewhere over the last year or so we stopped being friends," Harm said heavily.

"Then that is something to be sorry for," Gill said quietly, "A loss is still a loss."

"Yeah, maybe so," Harm half-heartedly agreed, "but we didn't come here to be gloomy. Now, you've mentioned 'The Troop', what is that, and why are you living there?"

"The Troop? I've told you about them, The King's Troop Royal Horse Artillery, the ceremonial unit with all the horses and World War One guns. As to why I'm living there? Now that I'm posted to an MOD Branch, they don't have a Mess or any sort of accommodation, and even on a Captain's pay I couldn't afford to rent anything in London, so it would meant either have been renting somewhere out of town and commuting daily, or going home to Mummy and Daddy for the length of my posting. So as the Troop is reasonably central, at St John's Wood, Colonel Mike arranged for me to live in the Mess there. It's not too bad, there is another female officer living in and she and I have the exclusive use of one floor of one wing of the Mess. She's an all right sort, a lot horsey as most of the officers are, and a bit jolly hockey sticks too!"

"Jolly hockey sticks?" Harm asked his face a picture of incomprehension.

"Oh..." Gill paused, "It's a bit hard to explain... she's quite nice, but she's a bit like an old-fashioned games mistress at a public school, all very hearty and back-slapping, and play up and play the game! The type that believes that there is no such thing as a cold or flu, and that you could get better if only you tried!" Gill broke off aghast, "Oh dear! I've just made her sound like one of those insufferable Navy types we were just talking about, but Bobbie's actually..."

"Quite nice?" Harm offered helpfully.

"Yes! That's it exactly, she... Oh! You atrocious man!" Gill laughed as she realised that Harm had used her own words against her.

Harm joined her laugh and Gill took the opportunity to observe how the laughter lines at the corners of his eyes deepened when he did, and how easily his mouth smiled. She shook her head slightly as she remembered what she had said to Sue not so very long ago, 'not totally repulsive'. 'No Harmon Rabb, certainly wasn't totally repulsive. In fact, he bordered on what Sue had described him as being: 'dishy'!'

Harm saw to his surprise that his plate was empty and put his fork down, noticing that Gill had laid her knife and fork aside too, "Dessert?" he invited her.

Gill sighed and appeared to contemplate the idea for a few moments, and then looked at her watch, "No, no thank you. I hope you don't mind. I'd rather skip dessert and go straight to the coffee? I do have to get up early in the morning, or Bobbie will give me hell!"

Harm smiled and signalled the waitress, ordering coffee for two, but he felt a sense of disappointment as he realised the evening was drawing to a close. It had been so long since he had been on actual date instead of just a working dinner he had forgotten how pleasant it could be finding out about the person you were with, testing their sense of humour, and hopefully digging the foundations for future dates, lots and lots of them in this case, he hoped.

While they waited for the coffee, Gill indulged her curiosity, "What about_ your_ domestic arrangements? You say you've got no family, other than your ward, so you're taking advantage of the bachelor life in London?"

Harm shook his head somewhat ruefully, "No... not for me. The Navy have provided me with an enormous house on an RAF Station at Northolt, that's about a forty minute drive from the Embassy. The JAG offices occupy a wing of the Embassy building, and I have a car and diver at my disposal so I am ferried to and from duty every day."

"Oh, that sounds a bit bleak," Gill said doubtfully, "Rattling around like that in a big house on your own!"

"Yeah, it is, a bit," Harm agreed, "but it does mean I'll be able to accommodate friends when they come to visit with me, and once Mattie's with me, she'll fill the house up all on her own! I can't wait for that!" he grinned.

Gill looked him in the eye, "You miss her? Him?"

"Her, Matilda Grace, although when the adoption goes through we plan to change her name to Rabb."

"You're confident it will?"

"Got to be! There's no other option. My old boss, the previous Navy JAG is handling the case, and we've just got a date in early September, so I'll be making another flying visit to DC, and with any luck I'll be bringing Mattie back to London with me!"

Gill nodded, "And that day can't come soon enough?"

"Correct!" Harm said as he drained his coffee cup and signalled the waitress for the check, or bill, as he'd learned it was called in Britain. He pulled his wallet from his pocket to extract his credit card, and his eyes fell on the half dozen business cards he habitually carried. Suddenly he felt nervous, and he licked his lips and then said, "Look... Gill... I've really, really enjoyed this evening..."

"Yes," she smiled, "so have I..."

"Well... I'd like to do it again... that is if you would want to..."

"Yes... I think I'd like that..." Gill murmured looking down into her coffee cup so that Harm wouldn't see the blush that had risen to her cheeks.

"So... it's OK if I call you?" he asked, mentally crossing his fingers.

"Is that you'll call me, or is that you'll really call me?" Gill challenged looking up, "I would like to repeat this evening, or something similar, but I'm not up for having my chain pulled!"

"No, I meant, it, I will call you!"

"OK, then... Gill fumbled in her handbag, and then bit back a curse of frustration. "Do you have anything to write with, and I can give you my number..."

Harm took a card from his wallet and signalled the waitress, asking to borrow her pen for a minute or two. He handed both to Gill and said, "Write your number on the back of that," and taking another card from his wallet he passed that to her too, "All my numbers are there, home, office and cell... oh... that's mobile to you, I think."

"Yes," Gill smiled gently, passing the card with her numbers across the table to him, "I believe I knew that!"

Ten minutes later they stood between their cars outside the pub. Gill smiled up at Harm, "Thank you for dinner, and for the company. I really have enjoyed myself! But I really I must be off now so... goodnight" she held her hand out to Harm, who took it and squeezed it gently, feeling a frisson of pleasure as she returned his grip and held his hand for a second or two longer than was strictly necessary, and then turning she opened her car door and slid behind the wheel of the Ford Focus. Once settled she wound down the driver's window and paused before she turned the key in the ignition, "And don't leave it too long to call!" she called out. And then she drove out of the parking lot, her right arm in the air as she waved goodbye through the open window.

Harm smiled as he waved back, hoping that she could see him in his rear view mirror, before he turned back to the rental Mondeo. He was still smiling when he pulled up outside the house at Northolt.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Julia leaned her head back and moaned, "Oh God... that was... that was...simply the best... ever!" she sighed, opening her eyes and looking up at the stars in a cloudless sky.

"Oh, it wasn't all that much" Johnny shrugged, "just traditional fish and chips. But I will admit that Amesbury has got one of the best chippies around!"

"It was great, really great," Julia said as she crumpled the paper her dinner had come wrapped in into a ball, "But I dread to think of the calories in that one meal! You are a bad influence on me Johnny Walker! The extra hours I'm going to have to put in at the gym to work this lot off! Still, it was worth it!" she giggled"

"So... I'm still Johnny, am I, despite Ma having bent your ear?" Johnny grinned taking the ball of grease and vinegar stained paper and dropping it into the waste bin next to the bench where they sat on the river bank.

"Of course you are, I don't think I could see you as a Tim, or... Timmy," she giggled again, teasing him as she remembered his reaction to his sister Zoe calling him by that name!

"Yeah, calling me that name will get you a merciless tickling," he threatened as he slid an arm around her shoulders.

"Don't you dare!" Julia cried.

"Shouldn't have told me you were ticklish!" he grinned down at her to where her head rested against his shoulder. Just as it had during their siesta during the firepower demonstration.

"M'mm..." Julio replied. There was just enough light from the lamps along the river bank path so that she could see the water sliding smoothly and swiftly by between the river banks on its journey to the sea some fifty or so miles to the south.

"What river is this?" she asked lazily, more out of wanting to talk to Johnny and listen to his voice than from any real sense of curiosity.

"Oh that's the Avon," he said carelessly.

"The Avon? As in Stratford upon Avon, where Shakespeare came from?"

"Did he? Johnny asked in mild surprise, "No this is a different Avon."

"That sounds so British! But doesn't that get confusing?" Julia asked, wrinkling her forehead.

"Yeah, I guess it does, but you have to blame the Romans for that!"

"Oh why?" Julia asked her curiosity now well and truly aroused.

"Well, when the Romans invaded, the savage Brits were running around daubed with blue war-paint and they spoke a language a bit like modern Welsh, and in Welsh the word for river' is 'afon', but the 'f' is hard, pronounced like a 'v'. So, I reckon some puffed up big-shot Roman general pointed at the river and said, 'What's that called?' It must have lost something in the translation, 'cos the Ancient Briton must have thought the guy was stupid, and said something like 'Duh! river!' So the Romans not knowing any better called it the River Avon, so actually the name means River River, and as there's more than one river in Britain, the same sort of scene must have been repeated over and over again! I reckon," Johnny dropped his voice conspiratorially, "that if you looked hard enough at place names in Britain you'd eventually find one that translates as 'Your finger, you fool"

Julia gurgled with laughter, "Johnny Walker you are impossible!"

"No, it's perfectly true!" he protested, "The word for River in Welsh is afon, although I admit the theory about river river is something I came up with, but it does make sense!"

"Yeah, I suppose it does," Julia conceded snuggling tighter against Johnny and giving a little shiver.

"Hey, what's this, are you getting cold?" he asked.

"A little bit," Julia confessed.

"That's it, let's get you back to the hotel!"

Ten minutes later they stood outside Julia's room, "Uh... Johnny..."

"No... I don't..." he agreed with smile and then bent his head and kissed her gently, "I'll see you tomorrow, at about nine, OK?"

"Yeah, sure," she agreed, "Oh and Johnny, thanks for the movie, the drink and the supper!"

"You're more than welcome!" he grinned and blew an air kiss at her before he turned and headed for the stairs.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Sue Marshall paused in the act of buttoning her Number One Dress tunic and reached for the 'phone. On the third ring it picked up at the other end, "Sergeants' Mess, Sergeant Reynolds, sir!"

Good, the ROS, just the man she wanted, "Sarn't Reynolds, it's Lieutenant Marshall, are you ready for last rounds?"

"Yes, ma'am!"

"OK, meet me at the Guard Room in ten. We'll start from there!"

"Yes, ma'am!"

Sue finished buttoning her tunic, ran a finger around the tight collar to try and ease it fit on her neck and adjusted the cross belt before she picked up her gloves and headdress. Stopping to check her appearance in the full length mirror, although she was satisfied that her turnout wouldn't let her down, she gave a little pout of discontent. Tony Latham hadn't waited for Monday to let her know just how displeased he was with her little stunt. Fourteen extra Regimental Orderly Officer duties, starting immediately, night on night off! Oh, well it would keep her out of trouble for the next month, and benefit her bank balance she added ruefully. And then a grin split her face as she turned the light off and stepped through the door. It had been worth it just to see the look on Gill and that Yankee Captain's faces! Besides, Gill would forgive her, eventually!

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Harm awoke reasonable early on Sunday morning and checking on the weather grinned when he saw the sparkle of dew on the grass, a sign that it wasn't yet too warm outside, although the day gave promise that it was going to warm up considerably. Hastily scrambling into a pair of gym shorts and a T-shirt, he sat on the edge of his bed and laced up his sneakers before looping the spare house key on its string around his neck.

Once outside he spent five minutes stretching and bending to loosen his muscles before he set out. He had looked at a map of the base and had figured out a route that would follow the perimeter fence, and once having satisfied himself that there was no restriction on running around the perimeter track of the airfield at weekends he calculated tat the total distance wouldn't be far off seven miles. That was a little shorter than he had got used to running at Rock Creek Park back in DC, but he figured if he pushed his speed for the first couple of weeks he'd be expending about the same amount of energy and then once he was comfortable with that level of effort, he could cut back a bit on the speed and go for two circuits.

Settling into his stride he took comfort from steady rhythm of his feet on the tarmac and the fact that despite his unconscionably long break in his fitness regime, his breathing was comfortable and he was maintaining a fair turn of speed.

It was about twenty minutes into his run that he became aware that he wasn't alone in taking advantage of the coolness of the early morning. Ahead of him he could see a minute figure running in the same direction he was. The other runner wasn't making anything near his speed and as soon as he realised he was overhauling the once distant figure, Harm opened his stride slightly and also increased his pace. It wasn't many minutes later therefore that he recognised the long brunette pony tail flying behind the slim figure of the other runner.

"Morning Legalman One," he grinned as he passed her by.

"'Morning... sir!" a red-faced and sweating Jen Coates puffed by way of reply and then lengthened her own stride to try and keep pace with her CO. She managed it for maybe half a dozen strides, before she gave up and fell back dropping into her usual rhythm, "You... go... on... sir!" she huffed, "I'll... have to stick... at my own pace!"

"Right!" Harm gave her a raised hand farewell, and he pulled away from her, shaking his head slightly, but grinning in indulgent approval. It was so typical of Jen. She had got into the habit of running while she shared the second apartment with Mattie, and although she loathed running she tried to do five miles every day, because, as she had confessed to him on a previous occasion, that no matter how she dieted, if she didn't exercise she pretty soon would fall foul of the Navy's height and weight requirement.

By the time he had returned to the house, Harm had worked up a sweatily damp glow and took five minute to walk around, cooling down as he did so, before he let himself into the house, and making for the bathroom, where he stripped off T-Shirt and shorts, consigning them to the laundry hamper before stepping into the bath, closing the spray curtain and turning on the shower.

An hour later, his light breakfast consumed and the kitchen cleared of debris, he lounged back on the couch and dug his wallet out of his pocket. Taking the card with Gill's contact details on it, he pondered whether it wasn't yet too early to call. He decided it was and that he would wait another half hour, which he could profitably spend sorting his laundry into the various piles... or... he could make and drink another cup of coffee, Now that really was a no-brainer, he thought, hauling himself to his feet and heading for the kitchen.

**xxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Gill sank into the bath with a sigh of relied. She did still enjoy riding she told herself, it was just that her muscles had forgotten how. And that also included the muscles she didn't even know she had. Still, it had been a good hour and a half's exercise, the horses, even the hairies, had been up on their toes, and even some of the most experienced Gunners, with years of service in the Troop, had been hard put to hold them in, and there had even been two or three anguished cries of "Loose horse!" as some unfortunate rider parted company with his ride, to the accompaniment of jeers from his mates and the sarcastic comments of "Who gave the you the order to dismount?" Gill's mount, Alkmaar, had been just as pepped up as the rest but was fortunately too well-mannered to do other than eye each parked car and lamp-post they passed as if they were a ravening wolf, ready to pounce, and had sidled past his way through each encounter, keeping his eyes fixed the whole time on the potential threat. It was funny, she mused as the hot scented water soothed her aching muscles, how it only took one edgy horse to upset the whole ride. It was the primordial herd-instinct she knew, but even after four thousand years of domestication, those instincts could still kick in.

Eventually the water in the bath started to cool and for a minute or so Gill played with the idea of topping the bath up with more hot water, but then contemplating the already prune-like appearance of her fingers she decided against soaking any longer. With a groan of effort, she pulled herself from the bath and wrapped herself in her terry clothe bath robe, before sticking her feet into her mules and shuffling down the corridor to her room.

She had barely closed the door behind her when her mobile phone, on her bedside table started to ring, picking it up she glanced at the incoming caller's number but it was a strange one to her. Somewhat cautiously, but with a lift of hope, she thumbed the green button and said, "Hello?"

"Uh... hi, Gill, this is Harm... Calling as promised, I just hope it isn't too soon or too early. I just wanted to make sure you were OK, that you'd got back in one piece..."

"Oh, Harm, hi. Yes, I'm fine, thanks... or I was until about two hours ago..." Gill smiled hugely, he had promised he'd call and he had - and the very next morning too!

"Why? What's wrong?"

Gill was surprised at the warm glow that washed over her as she heard the sudden concern in his voice, "No, it's nothing really, except that I rode out this morning, and its been such a while that some of my muscles still haven't got used to the exercise again!" She chuckled, "I now ache in places I'm not going to tell you about, and where I didn't think I was possible to ache!"

Harm grinned, as much in relief as in amusement, "I'm no great shakes at horseback riding," he confessed, "But I have been up on the beasts a time or two, and oh, I remember those aches! But," he continued before Gill could answer him, "what I really wanted to say was that I truly enjoyed myself last night..." he waited with bated breath.

"Yes... so did I," Gill answered, and Harm could swear he heard the smile in her voice,

"I'm glad." he said simply, "I know we said so last night, but seeing as how you enjoyed it, I was wondering if you'd still like to repeat the experience?"

He held his breath while he waited nervously for Gill's answer. She didn't keep him waiting long.

"Yes," she said quietly, "Yes, I think I'd like that."

"Friday good for you?" he asked, trying to hide the eagerness in his voice.

"Yes, Friday's good for me... where are we going?"

"Um... I don't know yet; can I call you back later in the week, once I've got something sorted out?"

"Yes, please," Gill replied.


	17. Chapter 17

**17**

"Good morning Yeoman Two!" Harm grinned as he bounded down the steps of his house towards the waiting car, "How was the second half of your weekend?"

Julia blinked, "It was just great, thank you, sir!" and resisted the temptation to ask 'how was yours'. Captain Rabb might have said he was getting used to her insubordination, but asking him a question like that would probably see her set to scraping barnacles off a garbage scow somewhere in Alaska. With a wry grin at that thought, Julia waited until the Captain had settled in to his seat before scurrying around to the driver's side.

"Straight to the office, sir?" Julia asked, as she did every morning.

"Yep, 'fraid so," Harm replied, "Although it looks like too fine a day to be cooped up indoors!"

Julia cast a quick glance at him, and then up into the rear view mirror where she could clearly see the reflection of dark clouds forming to the west, "Uh, the forecast is for heavy rain today, sir." she replied with a touch of question in her tone.

"Whatever," Harm replied expansively.

Julia was dumbfounded for a few seconds and then the penny dropped. The Captain had had a good weekend! And almost instantly came the thought, 'I got to tell Johnny 'bout this. He was so convinced there wasn't anything happening between our two officers!'

Harm's good mood lasted well into the morning and infected most of the staff in the office, the two notable exceptions being Lieutenants Tierney and Sullivan, both of whom looked distinctly unhappy and whose expressions froze into a scowl each time they looked at each other.

Perhaps it was Harm's own sunny mood that made him sensitive to the atmosphere between the two, and he frowned as he picked up on their mood, turning away from Julia's desk and moving to the door of the outer office to his suite, "Lieutenants, when you have a moment, please?"

It may have been phrased as a request, but everyone hearing it knew that he meant, 'My office – now!'

Harm preceded them into his inner sanctum and ignored them until he was comfortably seated, and then when he did look across the desk at the, his expression was bleak. The two officers were stood at attention, but there was something about both their expressions that screamed hurt and confused innocence, as if they hadn't any idea that they had done something wrong.

Harm kept his eyes on them as he said, "I warned the pair of you what would happen if you couldn't keep your personal life and concerns out of the office!"

Sullivan and Tierney were both taken so aback at Harm's words that they broke protocol and exchanged a stunned glance.

It was Tierney who wrenched his eyes around to face front first, "Oh, no, sir! Nothing like that! Things couldn't be better between Theresa and I!"

"No, sir!" Sullivan added, "We've never been happier!"

Harm sat with a thunderstruck expression on his face and his mouth hanging open for few seconds before he gathered his wits in the face of what seemed an improbable declaration. "If you're so damned happy with each, what's all this tension in the office about?" he demanded once he regained some of his normal composure.

The two lieutenants shared another look, a guilty one this time, "Uh... it's the McLaren case, sir, the misappropriation of private property..."

"Yes, I remember the case, the PO who borrowed a bicycle to get back to his ship before he missed movement. Where's the problem?"

"It's the owner of the bicycle, sir. He's the PO's brother in law, and apparently they don't get on well. PO McLaren claims he asked his sister, the owner's wife, if he could borrow the bicycle, the wife agreed against a guarantee that the bicycle would be shipped back to their address."

"Was it?"

"Yes, sir. Six days later by cab."

"Why the delay?"

"The cabby decided to wait until the cheque McLaren paid him with cleared."

"But the bicycle got back to it's owner? We can all agree, at least, on that?"

"Yes, sir!"

"So... the bicycle was borrowed with the consent of the owner's wife, and was returned, albeit a few days later. Still in serviceable condition?"!

"Yes, sir" the two lieutenants answered in chorus again.

"So... what's the problem?"

"The brother in law sir, his position is that his wife didn't have the authority to loan the bicycle to her brother," Theresa Sullivan answered this time.

"And?" Harm queried.

"It's my position, sir, that the bicycle is common property of the marriage, and that the wife saying her brother could borrow it vacates the charge of improper appropriation, sir," Brian Tierney replied.

"The Brother in law is adamant, on the other hand," Theresa Sullivan rebutted Tierney's argument, "In that the bicycle is his, paid for with his own money, and not a penny of that purchase cost was contributed by his wife. And therefore she had no right to loan it out without his say-so."

"OK... this is probably an unanswerable question... but, why didn't PO McLaren just ask the brother in law if he might borrow the bicycle?"

"Well, sir, apart from the fact that the two haven't exchanged a civil word in over three years, the brother in law was away from home."

"At sea," Sullivan added.

"At sea?" Harm queried, "He's navy?"

"Yes, sir... but not one of ours, he's Royal Navy," Sullivan answered.

"A complicating factor, maybe," Harm agreed, "but what's the argument between you two?"

"I think the charge should be dismissed. The bicycle was borrowed with the consent of the owner's wife, and that consent vacates the charge, sir."

"I disagree, sir. I wouldn't be doing my job if I wasn't!" Sullivan flashed a warning glare at Tierney, "The bicycle was taken without the owner's consent, it's return or otherwise is immaterial. It was wrongfully appropriated!"

Harm buried his face in hands for a few seconds, and although he could quite clearly see the humorous aspect of the whole affair, he was still annoyed with his juniors. "Had it occurred to either of you, that if you can't reach agreement, the simplest thing to do is to proceed to an article thirty-two hearing and let the judge do the job for which he is paid? Instead of the two of you trying to second-guess the whole military justice system! I warn you now, you haven't heard the last of this! And anyway, what are the two of you doing on the same case, didn't I tell you that I wouldn't allow that?

"Yes, sir!" They both said, again in perfect timing.

"So how did this happ..." Harm let his voice trail away. It had to have been Judge Moseley who had allocated the case, and he hadn't been alert enough on his return from DC to pick up on it.

"All right... dismissed!"

The two lieutenant, both now with red faces, once again answered in chorus "Aye, aye, sir" before their almost precipitous retreat. Harm gave them ten seconds' grace before he pressed the call button on his intercom, "Yeoman Two?"

"_Yes, sir_?"

"I could really do with a cup of coffee and an aspirin, please!"

"_Sir... we're out of aspirin, sir_!"

"Damn! If you're going out for lunch, get hold of a bottle please, and don't forget to bring back the receipt!"

"_Aye, aye, sir_!"

Five minutes later the anticipated knock at his door announced the arrival of Julia, the coffee and two aspirin." "I though you said we were out of aspirin, Yeoman Two?" Harm asked as he gratefully accepted them

"We are sir, but Legalman One Coates has an emergency supply stashed at the bottom of her purse!"

Harm cocked an inquisitive eye at his Yeoman, and Julia blushed under his scrutiny, "I'll make sure we don't run short again, sir!"

Harm shrugged, "It happens!"

"Never again! Not on my watch!" Julia affirmed.

"All right then, let that be an end to it," Harm suggested.

"Aye, aye, sir!"

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Harm returned to his office after lunch, and sat back in his chair. The hour he'd been away from his desk had been spent in the Embassy gardens, sipping on a container of hot coffee and chewing thoughtfully on a bagel. He had cudgelled his brains, seeking for some idea of how to entertain Gill on Friday evening. Eventually he gave a wry grin, London might not be New York or DC, but it was a major city, surely there must be something, somewhere to take a date.

Getting up from his chair he strode across the expanse of carpet between his desk and the door. The desk might not be as grand as the JAG's desk in Falls Church, nor the expanse of carpet quite so vast, but it still took four strides to reach and open the door. As he did so, both Jen and Julia jumped to their feet.

Harm blinked, this was an unforeseen consequence of his unannounced appearance in their office, and while on one level it was quite gratifying, on another level it wasn't quite so much... For one thing it disturbed his two aides from whatever work they were doing, imposing unnecessary breaks in their concentration and delaying their work. It looked like he'd have to draw up some ground rules.

"At ease, please, as you were..." He thought for a moment, "While it is flattering to have you both jumping up down like marionettes, I think we maybe tend to carry this a little too far. I am quite prepared to quit my office and get my own coffee, or raid the supply closet for pencils or legal pads, or even just to take a turn around the floor to stretch my legs. And I neither expect nor want you two to stop working and jump and down like... like..."

"Marionettes, sir?" Jen supplied helpfully, but with a twinkle in her eye.

"Didn't General Cresswell cure you of that habit, Legalman One?" Harm growled.

"He did try, sir, he did try," Jen admitted unabashedly.

Harm gave her a stern look and then turned to Julia, "It's OK to learn from Legalman One Coates how to keep a survival stash of aspirin, but don't bother learning to be any more insubordinate than you already are!"

"No, sir!" Julia agreed, fighting to keep a straight face.

"Very well. You may come to attention on my first appearance in the morning, other than that all I want or need is an acknowledgement of my presence. Legalman One Coates, have that typed up into a general notice, have it displayed on the office notice board and make sure that all of the enlisted know and understand its contents. We'll give it a month's trial, and then I'll review the situation – with your input, of course!"

"Aye, aye, sir!"

"Now, what I came out for was to ask if the Brits have anything like the Yellow Pages?"

Julia bent over and pulled open the lower drawer on her desk, and then straightened up, "You mean like this, sir?" she asked, holding out a massive yellow-covered book.

"Yes, just like that, thank you Yeoman Two!" Harm, grinned, slightly embarrassed that once again Martinez had caught him out for being ignorant of his host country's ways. He took the book and disappeared back into his own office.

Taking his seat behind the big desk, Harm wondered not for the first, and almost certainly not for the last, whether he had made a mistake in having Coates and Martinez working in such close proximity. Well, if he had, he had no one to blame but himself. With wry grin he opened the big yellow book and started flicking through the pages, searching for listings for florists.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

The next couple of days passed peacefully enough, even the tension between Tierney and Sullivan seemed to have evaporated, and it was noticeable that they both arrived for duty and departed at the end of the day, together. Had they been in DC, Harm was almost certain that the two of them would be car pooling, which of course argued that they were spending their nights together or were living in very close proximity. Both, he had noted had opted to live off-base and draw Overseas Housing Allowance, so unless they moved in together, and both continued to claim, he couldn't care less whether they co-habited or not.

Wednesday had brought another round in the constant fight to have his Chief of Staff position filled. Although not officially gapped, the refusal of the position by Bud Roberts, or more accurately by Harriet, had caught Harm, Mac and Cresswell flat-footed. Of course, with things they now were with Mattie, he was thankful that Bud had opted to stay at Fall's Church, but he still needed a Chief of Staff, the mess with Tierney and Sullivan on the same case was something that couldn't have happened with a competent Chief of Staff with his finger on the office pulse. Moseley, as a judge had to keep his distance from the attorneys and couldn't have been expected to know of the two lieutenants' change of status. Peter Moseley had done a good job of standing in for him on his short absence, but he had enough on his plate as the senior of the three Navy and Marine Corps judges on station. And that was another thing Harm was slightly less than happy about. When the London office was first established its jurisdiction was limited to the British Isles, now with the War Against Terrorism and the vastly increased presence of US Navy ships and shore establishments in Europe, particularly in the Mediterranean, Harm felt that JAG Naval Forces Europe merited a couple of more judges to ease some of the pressure the judiciary was feeling. A mere glance at the daily court docket, and the number of cases piling up waiting to be heard was ammunition ready to hand. But that pressure also adversely affected his office, with three courts sitting on an almost permanent basis, that meant six attorneys tied up in court at all times, leaving him only one attorney at any given time available for TADs and investigations. He also urgently need two or three more experienced attorneys, preferably O-4s or 0-5s to ease the strain before the office did implode. All he had to do was convince General Cresswell, and with that officer's dislike of him seeming to be growing, whether he would manage to attain his goals was a good question.

But it was a question that failed to receive a good answer. During their telephone conversation Cresswell had been curt, almost dismissive. The core of his argument was that since Roberts had refused the post, the budget allocated to that position had been re-assigned, and as for extra judges, forget it. The funds were just not available for the current year, the same for the additional attorneys, although Cresswell might be able to send him one, or possibly two lieutenants. Maybe next year if Cresswell could get approval for the extra funding. In the meantime, Rabb would just have to suck it up.

Harm put the phone down with a feeling of disquiet, as much as he hated the thought, he was beginning to wonder if Cresswell wasn't deliberately setting him up to fail. But of so, he couldn't think of any reason why that should be the case. Cresswell had come onto the scene after he had started caring for Mattie and had started on a slightly more sedate path, so there couldn't be anything in his performance of his duties to spark off the senior officer's hostility. He shook his head sadly in bemusement and with a sigh reached for the next folder in his in tray. His hand had just about reached the folder when he stopped, leaving it hover in mid-air, as AJ's words of caution came back to mind, "Remember with officers like him, CYA!"

H'mm... Harm let his hand drop back to the desk blotter, although he hated the idea, he had a feeling that he might indeed need to cover his ass, and if that were the case, then he need a clear statement of his understating of the current position in black and white. He pressed the call button on the intercom, "Yeoman Two, come in pleased, and bring your notepad..."

Julia entered within a few seconds, "Sir?"

"Take a seat, Yeoman, and prepare to take short-hand. Usual official letter heading, to Major General G Cresswell, USMC, Headquarters USN JAG Corps, Falls Church, Virginia. Heading: Manning of JAG Offices, US Naval Force Europe. Reference A, our telephone conversation of … today's date and time. Paragraph 1..."

Harm spoke for twenty minutes at the end of which time Julia was only too thankful to shake her wrist to get the cramps out of it.

"Type that up for me in draft format," Harm instructed her, "And then back to me, so I can feel how it reads before you edit for signature, OK?"

"Yes, sir! Will that be all, sir?"

"For the moment, Yeoman, yes, that's it!"

"Very well, sir!"

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Now, at sixteen thirty hours on Friday afternoon, he had one more, and he hoped enjoyable task on his 'to do' sheet for the day. Thumbing the intercom button, he waited for the crackle that told him the line was open and then said, "Legalman One, come in please!"

The door opened within a few seconds to allow Coates to enter the office. "Come on in Jennifer and take a seat," Harm smiled. Jennifer had only been in the office a week since finishing her driving course and most of that time she had divided between organising his legal load and imposing her ideas of good order and discipline on the denizen of the bull pen. She may not have worked with Victor Galindez, but that excellent NCO had left his mark on Jason Tiner, and Jen had learned from Tiner, and the bull pen was now, and noticeably, learning from Jen. But that was only the work side of her life...

"So... how's it going Jennifer?" Harm saw the momentary confusion on her eyes, "No... I don't mean here at the office. You've already made a significant contribution to the smoother and faster throughput of legal work, and I can also see signs of tightening up in the bull pen. And for both those, Bravo Zulu, and thank you. But that only tells me how LN One Coates is doing. It doesn't tell me how Jennifer is?"

"Uh... pretty well, thank you, sir." Jennifer replied. But there seemed to be some constraint in her voice.

"Only pretty well, Jennifer? What's got you chewing your lip?" he asked, mentioning her habit of doing so whenever she was perturbed, and which was a long-standing private joke between them. "You seem to be getting on OK with Martinez?"

"Oh, yes, sir, we seem to share the same sense of humour, she's good at her job, efficient, pleasant, has a nice smile. She's a good partner to work with. In short sir, there's nothing wrong with this place at all, as far as I can tell. It's a bit like old times in a way..."

"In what way, Jennifer?"

"Uh... I'd rather not say, sir," Jen's grin grew even broader.

"Humph!" Harm snorted. He noted Jennifer's grin and had the sneaky feeling that somehow he was the reason for her amusement, and rather than press on to their possible mutual discomfort, he reverted back to his question. So... what has got you chewing your lip?"

"Same old, same old, "Jennifer grinned, "Base housing."

"What's wrong with it?"

"Same as when I shared that apartment in DC, sir. It's small, dingy, and four Petty Officers all trying to get into the one bathroom at the same time in the morning. Like I said in DC, not a pretty sight, sir!"

"But no-one's broken your hair-dryer, yet?" Harm grinned, remembering clearly the run up to him making Jen the offer of moving in with Mattie.

"Yet!" Jen agreed ominously, although with a grin.

"So?" Harm asked, "Don't you think you ought to give 'em a chance? See if you can settle down?"

"It's a bit more complicated than that, sir."

"Go on," Harm encouraged her.

"Sir, I don't want you taking any action on this just because of my say-so... but the girls I'm sharing with... well, the only thing they ever seem to have in the fridge is beer. They say that because the RAF don't forbid Senior NCOs having beer in their quarters, and that the house is strictly speaking, RAF property, that USN regulations don't apply. Sir, you know I like a beer or a glass of wine as much as the next gal... but I'm not comfortable with having it around all the time, especially as the others seem to make a bee line for the fridge the moment they get in, and think nothing of having three or four beers before they even think of eating, or going out for the evening."

Harm looked concerned, he knew just how easy it was, especially for a younger person, to get into the habit of drinking a little too much and then finding that person had a dependency problem. "You don't share with anyone from this office, do you?" he demanded.

"No, sir, they're all Embassy staff."

"H'mm... I may have to take unofficial; action, Jennifer, maybe drop a word in the appropriate ear. They may even be right about the regulations that apply, although I doubt it, but even so, it does sound like too much alcohol is being consumed. Would a change of accommodation help?"

"It might sir, but even that's not all of the problem. Please don't think I regret being stationed here, I'm enjoying my work – it's good to get back to the legal stuff, and I like the added responsibility of being office manager, but I miss the independence I had in DC. I had a car, I lived off base, I was responsible for getting myself into work on time – although you did help when that heap of crap I called a car broke down!" Jen grinned again before she continued, "I know having a car here in London is pretty pointless, there just isn't the parking, and the daily congestion charge would pretty soon eat a hole in my bank balance, but I really hate having to wait for the bus to get here in the morning, and then having to secure precisely on time to get the bus back to the base..."

"So what;s your solution to the problem? You're right about a car not being a viable prospect as a means of getting to and from duty. You wouldn't get an official embassy parking slot – hell, even I don't rate one of those – and the daily parking charges on top of everything else would soon have you bankrupt!"

"No, sir, I was thinking of getting somewhere to live off base, on the outskirts of London, on a tube route. Bond Street is only a couple of minutes away in one direction, and Marble Arch about the same in the other, and I figure with OHA for my rate, and from the prices I've seen for rented accommodation out by Harrow or Stanmore that I could probably swing enough for a two-bed apartment, especially if I can find somebody to share it with me..."

"Stanmore... I've heard that name before..." Harm mused, and then shook his head, "All right, if that's the way you feel Jennifer, I'll sign off on the application for OHA – once I've seen the property, and made sure it's fit for my Legalman and Office Manager!" he finished with a grin.

"Oh... you don't have to do that, sir!" Jen protested, turning crimson.

"Uh... yes, I do." Harm contradicted her. "Mattie would have my hide if I didn't make sure you were OK."

"You do have a point there, sir!" Jen chuckled.

"Besides, were you thinking having Mattie visit with you?"

"You have another point there, sir!" Jen conceded.

"Yeah, I rather thought I did! So, deal?"

"Deal it is sir!"

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Harm peered suspiciously through the cab's window. "Are you sure this is the place?" he asked,

"It's the address you gave me, mate," the cabby, a solid-looking man about Harm's own age assured him, "So if it ain't the right place, it ain't my fault!"

"No, OK, then, thanks!" Harm looked at the meter, which was positioned so that the passenger could monitor it, slid his hand into his inside breast pocket and pulled out his wallet. Carefully checking the bill's denomination, he passed a ten pound note through the sliding glass panel, and with a smiling, "Keep the change," he let himself put of the cab.

For a moment he hesitated on the edge of the sidewalk, or pavement as he was learning to call it, before he crossed to the building and climbed the three steps to the front door. There was only a single bell-push and hoping to God he was at the right address, he pressed it.

It was answered in a few moment by a young man in dark green trousers and a white shirt, with a black bow tie and wearing what appeared to be a broad, light blue canvas sash with a thin yellow stripe running around it. Despite his civilian appearance – which Harm soon realised was not, he had that indefinable air that marked him as a serviceman.

"Good evening, sir. How may I help you?"

"Uh... Good evening, Captain Rabb, US Navy, for Captain Shephard," he introduced himself.

"Ah... yes, you are expected. Please follow me, sir!"

The young Gunner led Harm into a quiet, comfortably furnished side room, the walls of which were lined with bookshelves, alternating with hunting prints. Harm's eye was attracted by the colour of the prints and he soon realised that they were a humorous dig at the sport of hunting. They were wonderfully well executed, but had a cartoonish quality to them that was heightened by the variety of accidents that seemed to befall the various horsemen – and horsewomen!

He was busily engaged in chuckling at one particulate section of one print, which showed a portly and fearsomely mustachioed old gentleman with a bemused expression in his face, as from his sitting position he stared up at the highly amused expression on his horse's face, from where it stood on the opposite side of the hedge, when his amusement was interrupted, by a lightly spoken, "Harm?"

He spun on his heel, his face splitting in a grin of sheer pleasure. He had called Gill on Wednesday and advised her that she needed to be dressed for dancing, and she had taken him at his word. Her dress, with spaghetti straps was of a deep chocolate shade which set off her hair and eye, and altogether with a modest scooped neckline fitted petty snugly around her torso and then flared slightly into a skirt that fell to her knees. The low heeled pumps she wore were suitable for dancing or even walking, and her hair, which he had only ever seen twisted into a bun, or in a braid, fell in shining waves to her shoulders, and she carried a warp to cover shoulders.

"You look magnificent!" he breathed.

"Why, thank you kind sir!" she twinkled, "You don't look so bad yourself!"

And he didn't. He wore a light grey suit over a white dress shirt and a dark blue tie, held in place by a Naval Aviator Wings tie-clip. Gill nodded approvingly. It seemed that perhaps Sue was right after all, Harmon Rabb was rather dishy!

Harm crossed the room towards her, his smile growing even broader. He held both his hands out to her, which she took lightly in her own, and then raising herself on her toes she kissed him lightly on the cheek.

"Oh... what was that for?" Harm asked, too astonished at her action to be able to form any more coherent statement.

"Oh, well, if you're going to take that attitude, I won't do it again!" Gill said rather haughtily.

Harm was tongue-tied, his court room eloquence deserting him completely, and after tripping over his tongue a couple of times in attempt to apologise and to justify himself, he saw the brimming amusement in Gill's eyes, and felt a rush of relief as he realised that once again he had fallen victim to her teasing.

"OK," he grinned, "I'll accept that what I said was particularly graceless, but you took me surprise. So... if I may be allowed a reprise, please tell me Gill, what prompted you to say 'hello' in such a forward manner?" he asked.

"No more forward a manner than sending roses after a first – coerced – date!" she grinned, "and it wasn't to say hello, it was to say thank you for the flowers. They are beautiful!"

It was at this point that Harm noticed that she still had hold of his hands, and felt emboldened by that fact to try for a little humour on his part, "Aw, shucks, ma'am, it warn't nuthin'"

"Ah... Alabama, again, I take it?" Gill chuckled, finally releasing her hold.

"No ma'am, jest a ver' poor example of generic Dixie!"

"H'mm you do delight in catching me out!" Gill said.

"No more than you do me!" Harm argued.

"Well... I think I'll take the fifth on that!" Gill smiled, "I do have that correctly, don't I?"

"You do indeed, and that being so, I shall try not to ask any questions for the next five minutes!"

"Good, because I want to ask you one!"

"Go ahead," Harm invited her.

"Those roses... they are beautiful, but why yellow? I've looked up on the 'net for the meaning of flowers. So did you intend them to mean the British usage, or the American?"

"For the British usage, Gill." Harm said soberly.

Gill fell silent as she looked up into his eyes, and apparently satisfied with what she saw lurking there, she relaxed again and asked, "Did I hear, over the phone, somebody mentioning dinner and dancing?" she asked

"You did, why?"

"I'm starving!" Gill said simply.

"H'mm... are you sure you're not a marine?" Harm asked.

"Quite sure! But that's twice you've asked me that, there must be a story behind it!"

"There is... and I think it's time I told you. So we can do that over dinner!"

"Where are we going?" Gill asked as Harm helped her drape her wrap over her shoulders.

"A place called the 100 Club on Oxford Street. You don't mind travelling by tube, do you... If so I could always call a cab..."

"No... the tube's fine," Gill replied, "What sort of place is this 100 C lub?"

"I have no idea!" Harm said airily, "All I know is that the house music is supposed to be soft jazz, and the menu offers a reasonable vegetarian choice, even if they don't do butternut squash risotto," he ended on a crestfallen note.

"Barbarian!" Gill chuckled as he opened the door for her.


	18. Chapter 18

**18**

Unseen by Harm, Gill raised an eyebrow in mild surprise, but decided to say or do nothing to discourage him, when he unconsciously placed his hand in the small of her back, guiding her through the maze of small tables as they followed the waiter to their reserved table next to the dance floor and near the band stand. Not so near, however, that the music would drown out any conversation they might hold, but near enough for Gill to suspect that Harm had either brought some subtle pressure to bear, or, and more likely in her opinion, had been compelled to pay a hefty premium on the reservation.

On reaching the table, Harm side-stepped and drew out her chair for her, "Allow me..."! he murmured, taking her wrap and draping it over his forearm while he slid the chair under her while she sat.

Gill looked up and back over her shoulder, "Thank you," she smiled.

Harm smiled back and nodded in acknowledgement of her thanks before walking around the table to take his own seat, and once more to her mild surprise at ninety degrees to her, not opposite as she had almost automatically assumed he would.

This time Harm caught her expression, "Less confrontational and a little more... intimate... without the barrier of the table between us," he explained.

Gill felt the blood rise to her cheeks, had she really been that transparent? "Of course," she replied, "I did know that... but... somehow it never occurred to me... that you... umm... that you would..."

"You never thought that a Yank could be so subtle, or so civilised?" he asked, his eyes gleaming with amusement.

"Yes... Oh! No... I didn't mean to imply... Oh! You're doing it again!" she laughingly complained as she recognised the start of Harm's grin.

"Just a little gentle payback for the 'barbarian' cracks," Harm admitted as he allowed his full smile to spread across his features.

Gill stared at him and her breath caught in her throat for a second and she gave thanks that she was already sitting; she was sure that if she had been standing, her knees would have given way. That smile! It was completely unfair, and it ought to be illegal. In fact, she mused, it probably was illegal, especially the way he was using it, as a weapon of mass distraction! Then she blushed even harder as she realised that she was staring at Harm, and that he had caught her, if the inquiring lift of his eyebrow was any indication.

With a mumbled "Oops, sorry!" Gill dropped her eyes and gratefully grabbed the menu.

Harm continued to look at her for a few seconds more. What was wrong with Gill tonight? He wondered. She seemed to be drifting away somewhere else from time to time, and her apology seemed to indicate that she was conscious of it too! With a gentle shake of his head, and hoping that she would soon recover from her fit of abstraction, he followed her example and picked up his menu.

It was evident though as they started their meal that Gill was feeling ill-at-ease, and Harm assuming that somehow or other that he was at fault did his best to make her comfortable again. Gill for her part, knowing that it was her own fault that she had made a fool of herself forced down her feeling of discomfort and responded as bet as she could to Harm's attempts to lighten the mood.

Their joint efforts had such an effect that the slightly strained atmosphere that had developed before they ordered dissipated during dinner, and by the the time they had finished eating they were back on terms that allowed them to laugh easily at each others jokes, and the more humorous aspects of the anecdotes they swapped concerning their military experiences. One result of these tales was the hardening of Harm's long-held conviction that despite different uniforms, different protocols and different ideologies even, that essentially all militaries were the same. A further result was that once their empty plates had been cleared away at the end of the meal and they had spent a further few minutes in talking, Harm took advantage of a natural break in the flow of the conversation to say, "I think I mentioned dancing, when I set this date up."

"I believe you did!" Gill agreed with a smile, "Although I'm not quite sure how to dance to this..."

'This' was a medley of soft jazz tunes from the repertoires of Dan Barrett, Wynston Marsalis, Al Jarreau and, of course, Grover Washington Junior.

Harm smiled as he stood and extended a hand to Gill, "Just follow my lead?" he suggested.

Gill smiled. "Well, it couldn't hurt, I suppose..." laid her hand in his and allowed him to lead her to the dance floor.

Their first few steps together were awkward, not out of rhythm, but not quite in sync with each other. Both however enjoyed dancing and were accustomed to dancing with different partners, Gill perhaps more so than Harm, so in less than a minute they were moving comfortably to the soft romantic music, allowing them to submerge themselves in its rhythm and melody. They started out dancing quite formally, Harm with one hand holding Gill's while his other hand rested on her waist and Gill's free hand rested lightly on his upper arm.

And what an arm, she thought. He'd told her he was now an attorney, a lawyer, that he now flew a desk instead of a Tomcat, but she could felt the muscles of his upper arm, even through his jacket and shirt. Desk-jockey he might be now, but he must still work out regularly, she told herself, not realising that muscle she felt was the legacy of a fighting fit man, able to cope with the bodily stresses and strains inflicted by nine-G turns and strong enough to be able to physically fly combat manoeuvres in a high speed aircraft that fully loaded weighed nearly thirty tons.

Harm, for his part was pleasantly surprised by the firmness of the muscles under his hands. He had seen that Gill had a figure that could be described as athletic, and of course as a military officer she kept herself fit, but the muscles that glided beneath her skin as they danced betrayed not an ounce of fat covering them.

All too soon it seemed to Harm that the band leader was announcing the last number of the evening. Harm roused himself from the comfortable cocoon in which he had submerged himself and blinked, exclaiming, "What? Already?" only to have Gill smile up at him.

"I don't whether that's a compliment or if I should feel insulted!" she said. "We've been dancing for well over an hour! Didn't you realise?"

"No... no I didn't..." Harm confessed as he stood back from Gill, but still holding her hands, "But why should you feel insulted?"

"Because," she grinned, relishing the opportunity to pay him back for his pre-dinner teasing, "It was quite obvious that while we were dancing – and very good you are at it too – you were somewhere else!"

As he led Gill back to their table Harm shook his head in dismay that she could have felt that. True he had lost all sense of time while they were on the dance-floor, but he had been intensely conscious of her body in his arms and her closeness, particularly as during the dance their hold had become much less formal. Gill's hands had slipped up his arms until they were almost resting on Ham's shoulders and both his hands had come to rest on her waist, slowly drawing them closer until their bodies were almost touching. And he had also been supremely conscious that it was Gill, and not anyone else with whom he was dancing, and whom he was holding so closely.

"Ah... not so..." he defended himself against Gill's accusation, "I admit, I was a little lost in the music and I lost track of the time – I'm good at doing that!" he grinned self-consciously, " but I knew where I was, and most importantly I knew with whom I was!"

"Oh... well, if that's the case, you're forgiven!" Gill smiled as she turned her back to Harm who, her wrap held in his hands, was waiting for her to do just that.

As she turned the light fell fully on her face and Harm saw once again the laughter in her eyes, and knew that he had fallen for one of her teases – again! But somehow he didn't mind.

A summer evening it might have been, but the contrast between the warmth of the club and the night air was enough to make Gill give a little shiver, and with an apologetic, "You don't mind do you?" she slipped under Harm's arm and snuggled in close to him.

"Mind?" Harm echoed when he realised what she was doing, "Not a bit! But are you sure you don't want to borrow my jacket?"

"Not if we can get a cab in the few minutes!" Gill laughed. This was Oxford Street after all, and a Friday evening and there seemed to be a non-stop flow of the famous London Taxis streaming past. The trick was, Harm was beginning to realise, was to spot one with its 'For Hire' sign lit up.

Fortunately for the visitor to London, the city's cabbies have sharp eyes, and no sooner had Harm signalled than one taxi pulled out of the stream and drew up at the curb.

"Where to?" the driver asked.

"RAF Northolt via Ordnance Hill, Saint John's Wood!" Harm said.

The cabby sucked his teeth for a second before he nodded, "Alright, squire, get in!"

Harm lifted his eyebrows and silently mouthed 'Squire?' at Gill, but nevertheless he and Gill climbed gratefully into the back of the cab and Harm settled back against the squabs, but Gill to his surprise lifted his arm and draped it over her shoulder again, almost burrowing into his side as she rested her head in the hollow of his shoulder. Nothing loath, Harm let her arrange matters to her satisfaction and sat back with a smug smile on his face.

The ten minute drive to Ordnance Hill passed almost too quickly for Harm's liking, and he nearly grunted in annoyance when the taxi pulled up outside the anonymous building that housed The King's Troop Officers' Mess. "We're here," he said softly to Gill, who seemed to have fallen into a light doze.

"Ohhh..." Gill sighed and disentangling herself she sat upright, "Then thank you, Harm for a delightful evening... It' been a long time since I danced with anyone who didn't macerate my toes!"

"I'll have to try harder, next time!" Harm quipped.

"Oh... you think I might go out on a date with you again?" Gill smiled.

This time Harm wasn't about to let himself be taken in. "If you really knew what I'm thinking right now, you wouldn't dare come out with me again! He told her in mock ferocious accents, "but as I have no intention of telling you, I'm hoping you will!"

Gill chuckled again and opened the cab door, "Alright, I'll consider it... what are you doing?" she asked as Harm also got out of the taxi.

"Seeing you to your door, of course!" Harm answered in surprise.

They walked the few steps to the door and Harm waited while Gill salvaged her keys from the bottom of her handbag, "Uh... about that next date..." he said tentatively.

"Yes?" Gill asked cautiously, she already had a healthy respect for Harm's sense of humour.

"Would Sunday be too soon?" he asked.

"I don't know..." Gill said doubtfully, "It's a work night. And I like to get an early night..."

"Oh, no, I was thinking of a lunch date," Harm interjected.

Gill tilted her head to one side, "Oh, where?"

"Well my driver cum yeoman keeps putting me to shame with her knowledge of the country, but she assures me that a walk along the river at Oxford will lead to some traditional pubs where a Sunday lunch can be had."

"That's true!" Gill remarked, "How do you propose we get there?"

"Ah... leave that to me!" Harm assured her. "What say I pick you up at eleven hundred? I understand it's about an hour's drive to Oxford."

"OK, eleven on Sunday," once again Gill's face creased in a grin, "It's a date!" and with that she stood on tip toe, and placing her hand on Harm's shoulder for balance, she leaned in and kissed him gently, just to the side of his mouth, and then before he could react, she said a cheerful, "Goodnight, Harm!" and whisked away into the darkness of the doorway.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Julia looked doubtfully at the detached red-brick house that stood behind a waist-high box hedge. The path leading from the wrought iron gate to the font door was bordered by neatly tended flower beds, now ablaze with the summer's flowers and behind them was neatly mown lawn. It didn't seem to match Johnny's description of a ramshackle sort of place out in the sticks. Well, out in the sticks was almost right, if by that he meant the country, the house was on the outskirts of the village, but it was definitely not ramshackle. Still the address was right and the gold Trooper was parked a couple of yards down the street from the gate.

Julia climbed out of the car, another rental. But a Vauxhall Corsa this time. Her choice of rental vehicles was primarily dictated by the health of her bank balance; the smaller the car, the less the rental cost. But she was also beginning to develop a fondness for these small cars, sub-compacts they'd be called back home. Rescuing her sea-bag from the back seat, she looped it over her shoulder and opening the gate, she walked up the path towards the door which was thrown open before she reached it.

"Oh Julia, Hi! You made it!" Zoe Walker cried cheerfully as she stepped out into the evening, "here give me that and come on in! Tim's not here yet, but he called to let us know he was on the way"

Julia let out a breath she didn't even know she'd been holding, "This is the ramshackle sort of place that Johnny told me about?" she queried.

"Oh! He would! But for the Lord's sake, don't ever tell Ma he said that!" Zoe chuckled as she ushered Julia into the hall.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Harm nearly gave the Duty Petty Officer a heart attack when he strolled unheralded and in a casual button down shirt and light grey slacks into the bull pen mid-way through Saturday morning, catching the unfortunate young woman at her desk with her nose buried in some sort of glossy celebrity gossip magazine and a mug of coffee steaming gently by her elbow.

The coffee nearly went flying when she lifted her head to see who had opened the door and she leaped to her feet, her face a picture of confusion. "Sir!" she gasped.

"At ease, Legalman Three!" Harm commanded, "All quiet?"

"Yes, sir!"

Harm nodded approvingly, "Good. Who's Duty Attorney for the day?"

"Lieutenant Markham, sir!" Legalman Three Sammi Dixon replied.

"And you've got his on-call number, just in case?"

"Yes, sir!" It sounded as if there was an unspoken 'of course' on the end of the phrase and Harm smothered a temptation to grin.

There had only been one case so far on a weekend that had had to be fielded by the Duty Petty Officer and handed over to the Duty Attorney, but both duties had a comprehensive set of orders, heavily based on the orders pertaining to Falls Church, laying down strictly to be followed instructions in case of need. One of those instructions was that the Duty Attorney kept the Duty Petty Officer informed of his or her location at all times.

"Good," Harm repeated, "Now... I've got a couple of things to attend to in my office, so... if there's another mug of coffee on the pot, I'd appreciate it, otherwise forget I'm here."

"Sir, yes, sir!"

Harm disappeared into his office, pausing at Martinez' desk on his way through the outer office to retrieve the Yellow Pages from its place of concealment in the bottom drawer.

Five minutes later, after a cautious knock at the door heralded Dixon's arrival with his coffee, he found the number he was looking for.

"Good morning, my name's Harmon Rabb. I rented a car from you last weekend... well, I'd like to rent another today until Monday morning. A Ford Mondeo, the same as I had last week, if possible?"

Harm listened to the crisp business-like reply from the young woman on the other end of the line. "Yeah, you should have all my details and a copy of my licence, my admin assistant faxed them to you last week? You have? Good. And I'd like to make the same arrangements for delivery and collection of the vehicle. Yes, I realise there's a premium to pay on the rental."

Once again he paused to listen to the reply.

"Yes, that's fine, any time after fourteen hundred to... uh... two pee em this afternoon, and collect any time on Monday morning from the guard room at RAF Northolt. Right, my card details are..."

Harm put the phone back on the cradle a satisfied smile on his face. 'Admin assistants, huh, who needs 'em?' he asked himself and then answered back, 'Not on a Saturday morning perhaps, but definitely during duty hours; could you imagine spending that much time on a personal matter in the middle of a busy day...? and speaking of the time he'd taken, Julia Martinez could probably have accomplished the job in half the time, and Jen would have done it without batting an eyelid. Well, she would have back in Falls Church, and she will do here, once she's got properly settled!' he decided.

'And what's more,' he chided himself, 'the job was still only half-done.' Leaning down, he fired up his PC and waited for the screen to spring into life, he started the internet and typed 'Riverside Pubs Oxford' into the search engine.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Harm hadn't been the only member of his staff to use a computer this morning. Frustrated by the lack of a DSL in the her quarters, Jen has asked at the Guard Room if there were any internet café's in the area, to be told by a smiling young RAF SP Corporal that there were computers available free to the public in the the town's library.

"It about a fifteen minute walk into the town centre," he'd said, "and there's little green and black signs on posts that direct you to the various places. The library's bound to be on those, and if not, I'm pretty sure anybody will be able to direct you!"

Now, nearly three hours later, her research having paid off, Jen sat sipping a cup of surprisingly good coffee in a little coffee shop in the centre of Stanmore. She had looked up properties to rent in the area, and armed with her notebook she had caught the bus from Northolt into London and then the tube from Bond Street Station out to Stanmore. The bus had taken a little under an hour, but she guessed that in peak traffic times the journey would be substantially longer, less pleasant and far more crowded than on a Saturday mid-morning. The tube out to Stanmore had also been almost empty and had taken just over half an hour. Jen had followed her nose from the tube station and found that it was less than half a mile from the centre of the town. And the four properties she had highlighted were all clustered within a few minutes walk of the the town centre which surprised her with the facilities and services available: a large superstore, local shops, banks, dry cleaners, restaurants, coffee shops, a laundromat, coffee shops, pubs and take-aways even a Subway Sandwiches bar. And all within a five minute walk of her number one choice of properties, a two-bedroom flat in a purpose-built three storey block on Church Road.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Harm's journey into London and back had been by tube and had taken nearly an hour each way, including the ten minute walk at each end of the journey between the RAF station and the tube, and between Bond Street station and the embassy, and of course the mirror of that journey for his return.

He stopped at the Guard Room to inform the SPs that he was expecting a rental to be delivered and gave them his cell number, and satisfied that he had done all he could for the day, he strolled back to his house – he couldn't quite get used to the idea of it being a home, yet – and the long postponed domestic chores that awaited him.

Once the chores were completed and the 'phone call from the Guard Room had told him that the rental car had arrived, Saturday afternoon and evening had never seemed so slow for Harm, until idly flicking through the TV channels. (he'd justified the purchase of the flat-screen set on the grounds that Mattie would need it when she came across from the States, and it was on special off when he bought it, so it would have been dumb to wait until Mattie arrived and then have to pay full price for a set), hew found that there was a re-run of 'Top Gun' being shown.

Although not one of his favourite films, he derived a great deal of enjoyment from watching it and anticipating the various technical screw ups that had been made in the interests of the story, so with the help of a plate of cheese sandwiches and a couple bottles of beer it eventually became late enough for Harm to be able to justify heading for bathroom and then bedroom. The remains of his supper cleared away, it was a scant twenty minutes later that he turned the light out and settled himself for sleep.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

By zero nine-thirty hours on Sunday, Harm was up, and had showered and then shaved with extreme care and had applied just a touch of his favourite light cologne and had dressed in a pair of jeans with a white T-shirt over which he wore an opened blue denim shirt and a pair of well worn and comfortable, stout leather shoes. He'd hastily breakfasted off a couple of slices of toast and a pot of coffee, grinning as he thought of what Mattie would have to say about that. The teenager always seemed to throw herself into her chair at the meal table with a cry of "I'm starving!" and then proceed to demolish anything and everything that came within the gravitational pull of her plate. Especially if there were pancakes, maple syrup, eggs and bacon anywhere within reach. She had more than once, despite his disapproval of her talking with her mouth full, explained while devouring the contents of her plate that breakfast was the most important meal of the day and shouldn't be skimped. A growing teenager she declared needed as much breakfast as she could get, and a couple of slices of toast or a bowl of oatmeal just didn't cut it!

Or, at least, she used to when they lived in the old converted warehouse, before the crash, and she would, he told himself fiercely be doing exactly the same here in England, in the not too distant future, and without that damned wheelchair, too!

Harm kept an eye on the clock and promptly at ten fifteen hours he locked the front door behind him and walked the few steps to the kerb where the Mondeo was waiting for him. Carefully adjusting mirrors and seat for maximum comfort and safety he finally turned the key in the ignition and selected first gear and still somewhat tentatively moved off in the direction of the main gate.

Five minutes later and on the main road to London, Harm felt himself relax as he adjusted once more to driving a stick shift car on the wrong side of the road, and so it was with increasing confidence.

He followed the SatNav instructions to the letter and forty two minutes later guided the Ford to a stop at the kerbside a few yards from the Mess door.

He climbed the steps and was just about to press the bell, when a cheerful voice from behind him said, "Hello, can we help you?"

Harm turned to fond himself the subject of scrutiny by two pairs of eyes both belonging to younger men in their mid-to-late twenties with short cut hair, dressed in sweatshirts, jogging pants and sneakers, both with a towel draped around their necks, both carrying squash racquets and both still sweating after their game.

"Uh... Harmon Rabb," he kept the introduction simple, "I'm here for Gill Shephard..."

"Ah.. you must be Gill's Ya... er... American sailor! Peter Dawson, sir, and this is Mike Charteris. Pleased to met you sir!"

"Gentlemen," Harm nodded recognition of their informal introduction, "But a crease between his brows indicated that he wasn't too happy of the description by which he was apparently becoming known. But tact and diplomacy dictated that he be civil, "Ah, Gill's mentioned me, has she?"

"Oh, no sir!" Peter Dawson replied, halfway between shock and amusement, "Trying to get information out of Gill is worse, far worse, than trying to get blood out of a stone! And I'm sorry if I gave you that impression. No, the leak is Sue Marshall, I'm afraid. We were together at Sandhurst and then on our YOs' course!"

"Ah... yes... Sue... I think I will kill her, after all!" Harm muttered, "or turn her over to Gill!" he added as an afterthought.

The two British officers grinned at his patently insincere threat, and Dawson said, "Step inside, sir, while we get someone to dig Gill out of her bunker. I'm afraid that wearing jeans you can't use any of the public rooms in the Mess, but I'm sure no-one will mind you waiting in the library. After all, we can't just leave you standing on the doorstep!"

Once again Harm was conducted into the book-lined room and after he had declined the offer of a cup of coffee, he was left alone while his escorts disappeared presumably in search of Gill or for someone to alert her to his arrival. He hadn't quite decided whether to resume his interrupted perusal of the hunting scenes that decorated the wall when the door opened behind him, turning he found himself facing a smiling pair of eyes that belonged to a Gill dressed in a pair of light khaki chinos and a white blouse, carrying a dark blue sweater over on forearm.

"You are being tiresomely punctual!" she grumbled with a mock pout, but then grinned and swiftly closing the gap between them, she once more used a hand on his shoulder for balance as she raised herself on tip-toe and kissed him lightly on the cheek.

"Good morning to you too!" he grinned, and had the gratification of seeing her blush lightly.

"Oh... I suppose I should have said that first!" she confessed, "Am I forgiven?"

"I'll think about," he promised, as he held the door for her, "Shall we go?"

"Only if I'm forgiven!" she teased.

"That's a deal breaker is it?" Harm grinned, "Oh... OK, then... you're forgiven!"

"Good! Shall we go then, I'm starving already!"

Harm shook his head, his grin becoming rather forced as he fought down bitter-sweet memories. 'Damn it, this is Gill – not Mac!"

"What's all this tiresomely punctual bit, anyway?" he asked as he settled back behind the wheel. I said I'd be here at eleven hundred, and I was!"

"It's just that you were at great pains to explain that you were always late for everything, and I figured I had another ten minutes or so to fix my make-up properly, but then you turned up on time, and I had to do a rush job!"

"You're wearing make-up?" Harm asked in surprised tines.

"Flatterer!" Gill gave a crow of laughter, "Believe me, you don't know me well enough yet to see me without my war paint!"

They both fell into almost silent laughter as Harm piloted the car around the one-way system, back onto the roads that led to the main road to Oxford, which incidentally took them back past RAF Northolt.

"That's where I live." Harm said as they passed the wire-fenced expanse of the airfield itself, which was about all that could be seen from the main road.

"Oh... If I'd realised we would have to pass here, I'd have driven out and met you here!" Gill protested, "Instead of making you double back on yourself!"

"No you wouldn't," Harm explained patiently, "I wouldn't have let you!"

"Dinosaur!" Gill snorted.

"Hey! I'm not that old!" Harm defended himself.

"No... no, you're not," Gill said as she gave him a ruminative look, "So where are we going? I know you said a pub lunch by the river in Oxford, but where exactly?"

"Ah... a slight change of plan," Harm told her, "I did some checking, and none of the pubs in the city itself came up with unambiguously good reviews, so I widened the search a bit, and hit on a place called the King's Arms at Sandford on Thames..."

"Oh! Yes, I know it. It is a nice pub, and right on the river!"

"Oh... we could try to find somewhere else, maybe where you haven't been before?" a slightly crestfallen Harm suggested.

"Not at all!" Gill declared firmly, "I like the place!"

"Well, if you're sure...?"

"Sure, I'm sure!" Gill laughed.

Both now wearing smiles, they settled back in their seats, Harm to concentrate on his driving, and Gill to admire his skill in handling of a strange car in what was, she was sure was still a strange environment.

"This isn't it!" Gill exclaimed when forty-five minutes later Harm pulled into a car park overlooking the river.

"No... but I have done my homework," Harm grinned as he unclipped his seat belt, "See over there...?" he indicated a pedestrian gate in the wooden fence at the corner of the car park, "That leads onto a trail that takes us down on the river bank, and then it's a couple of easy miles along the riverside to the pub! I did say it would be a stroll along the river!"

"Or a walk in the park!" Gill laughed. "Oh well, if you're sure?"

"I'm sure!" Harm affirmed with smile, "Now, madam shall we walk?"

"Indeed, sir! We shall!" Gill laughed, placing her hand in the crook of the elbow Harm offered her.


	19. Chapter 19

19

Harm was relieved to find that there was a well-trodden path alongside the river bank, and high enough above the water level not to be waterlogged, or even muddy, although he guessed that had a lot to do with what Gill, and Johnny had described as the recent unseasonably dry weather.

The path was only just wide enough for two and as they walked Gill's shoulder bumped against Harm's upper arm, and the first few times it did, Gill turned toward him and offered a muttered, "Sorry" by way of apology.

"No apology needed," he smiled down at her after the fourth or fifth occurrence, "Here..." he offered her his arm and with a smile she hooked her hand in the crook of his elbow and they continued their leisurely walk alongside the river.

"I wonder," Gill suddenly said apropos of nothing, "if this is still the Isis..."

"The what?" Harm asked, totally at a loss.

"The river," Gill replied.

"It's the Thames, isn't it? After all the place we're headed for is Sandford on Thames," Harm queried.

"True, but in Oxford itself, that stretch of the river is called the Isis, after the Egyptian Goddess, and I've never been able to work out exactly where along its length that it changes its name back to the Thames." Gill explained.

"Couldn't you just look it up on the 'net?" Harm queried.

"I suppose so," Gill answered doubtfully, and then her eyes took on that extra sparkle that Harm was beginning to recognise, "But where would be the fun in that!" she chuckled.

Harm looked down at her, found her laughter infectious and couldn't help the broad grin that spread across his face.

"Oh... I like it when you grin like that!" Gill was just as unable to help herself from exclaiming as Harm had been from grinning, but she then promptly flushed red as she realised exactly what she'd just said and added hurriedly in a suffocated voice, "Oh... I'm sorry... I... ah...shouldn't have said that... I don't know what came over me!"

"Oh, don't mind me!" Harm said, "I'm not embarrassed. In fact, I'm slightly relieved!"

"Oh, why?" Gill asked bluntly.

"Well, I as wondering why a young, beautiful woman like yourself kept on agreeing to go on dates with a battered old pilot turned attorney like me. To find out it's because you like my smile is a relief. I was beginning to wonder if you were just after my money!"

Gill jerked to a halt. "What! After your money!" she exclaimed furiously, "Sir, you can take me back to the car and then drive me home just as quick..." it was only halfway through her angry retort that she saw the glint of amusement in Harm's eyes and realised that he had well and truly wound her up. "Oh... you horrible man!" she gurgled as her own albeit rueful grin spread reluctantly across her face. "You set me up!"

"Guilty as charged!" Harm chuckled.

"Do you have any money?" Gill asked thoughtfully, realising that outsiders might take one look at such an apparently mismatched couple and leap to the same conclusion. And that realisation was unsettling.

"Money? Me? No, not a penny!" Harm admitted cheerfully. "Just my Navy salary and a pension to look forward to. My savings are now earmarked for Mattie."

"Mattie, that's your ward, isn't it?. Tell me about her," Gill requested.

"Mattie's fifteen." I met her last year, she was running her mother's aviation business, crop-dusting, aerial courier work, aerial taxi, all that sort of stuff..."

"Shouldn't she have been in school?" a puzzled Gill asked .

"Yes, she should... but her mother had recently been killed in a car crash, and her father had bailed out on her. He's an alcoholic and had been in the car when it crashed. At first Mattie hated him because she assumed he'd been driving, then it was discovered that it was her mom that had been driving but that he had distracted her at night on an icy road. I was flying crop dusters for her and saw that she needed adult supervision, so I applied to the courts for legal guardianship, and got it." Harm glossed over the part where if it hadn't been for Mac's double intervention he wouldn't have been awarded guardianship and Mattie would have ended up in the system. "She moved to the apartment next door to mine in DC with Jen... I couldn't have done it at all without Jen's help, and..."

"Jen?" Gill asked

"Yeah, Jennifer Coates, Legalman Petty Officer First Class. She was the JAG's – Judge Advocate General's – Legalman slash Admin Assistant, and she sort of became like a big sister to Mattie. I don't know what we would have done without her at the time. I was still being sent on investigations and courts martial away from DC, out of the country sometimes. Jen joined us here in London two weeks ago, once Mattie got out of hospital. Ah, this is the place!" he added as a twist in the river brought the King's Head into view.

Gill was consumed with impatience to learn the rest of Harm's tale about Mattie, with a woman's intuition she knew that there was more to come, and even perhaps that she hadn't heard the full tale of what had she had been already told. That was fine by her; she had no right to be privy to all of Harm's secrets, and she wouldn't presume on their still new friendship to press him for information that he didn't want to tell her. But she'd have to gently probe him for more information about the Harm-Mattie-Jen set-up, it didn't sound quite like anything that the Royal Navy would tolerate. Oh, not the guardianship thing, that was fair enough, but from what he'd said, there was obviously some sort of relationship between Captain and Petty Officer, and the closeness of that relationship, if it were too close, would certainly raise questions in the Grey Funnel Line.

She took one look at the building in front of them and quickly calculated it as being seventeenth century at the latest and she exerted a little extra pressure of Harm's elbow, and he slowed his pace, looking down at her again, "It's an old building, so be prepared to duck or grouse, again!" she grinned.

Harm grinned and muttered a laconic thanks as he ducked under the lintel over the front door to the pub and stood waiting for a few seconds as his eyes readjusted to the comparative gloom after the brightness of the daylight. Once satisfied that he could spot the hazards, such as low flying ceiling beams, he turned to Gill, "What would you like?"

"A bitter shandy, please." Gill replied

"Shandy?"

"Half beer and half lemonade," Gill explained, it's a refreshing drink for a summer afternoon, and only half the alcohol. I don't know about you, but drinking beer or wine on a hot afternoon gives me a headache. And i;'s not fair! I can tolerate a hangover if it's deserved, but not when it hits you sober!" she chuckled.

"Much experience with hangovers?" Harm asked, faintly disturbed by her disclosure.

"Not since my days at university!" Gill declared, "I learned my lesson the hard way!"

"OK, why don't you find us a table, while I get the drinks and menus?"

"Inside, or on the patio?" Gill asked.

Harm thought furiously for a few seconds while he translated patio to deck and then nodded, "On the patio, if that's alright with you?"

Harm rejoined her a couple of minutes later, a glass in each hand and a pair of menus tucked between one elbow and his side, raising an eyebrow at Gill's expression, "Something wrong?"

"Umm...no... not really... it's just that I don't normally drink pints," Gill smiled as he placed his burdens on the rustic table.

"You don't? But you said you wanted a shandy, so when I asked for two shandies, this is what they poured!" Harm said, thoroughly confused.

"Oh, in that case, it's my fault!" Gill laughed, "I should have specified a half of shandy! Never mind, I'll just have to try and be as lady-like as I can!" She saw Harm's still troubled expression and smiled again, "No, really, it's fine... and it'll save you having to rush to the bar again!"

"Still going to have to do that!" Harm replied, "apparently you have to order food at the end of the bar!"

"Well... that's pretty usual for a pub," Gill remarked, "but not until we've had a look at the menu!"

It didn't take them long to make their choices, although Harm had to query one entry on the menu "What's TVP?"

Gill thought for a few seconds, she'd certainly heard the acronym before..."Ah... I have it! Textured vegetable protein. Soy or Tofu... I'm not really sure which one it means, but its used as a meat substitute. What are you looking at?" she asked.

"The vegetarian Moussaka," Harm replied. "I make a version of it myself, but I use red lentils instead of Tofu!" he grinned.

"Something funny?" Gill asked, having made her choice, she set her menu aside.

"Yeah... Mattie... when I first met her, she was living alone in her mom's house, and she couldn't cook, never learned to. She was ordering in pizza every evening. You wouldn't believe the struggle I had to get her to eat healthy food. She used to argue that making her eat vegetables was unconstitutional, and that teenagers had the right to eat as much junk food as they wanted as often as they wanted!"

"Chips with everything!" Gill commented.

"Pardon?" Harm asked.

"Chips – fries – with everything. Sounds just like our soldiers. Doesn't really matter what you serve them in the cookhouse, as long as there are enough chips – oh and bread!"

"Really?" Harm asked.

"Yep! The bread is understandable, but I've seen them eat chips with stew, with savoury mince, even with curries!"

"Enough! You're going to put me off my lunch! Have you decided?"

"Yes, I'd like the green salad starter, followed by the river trout meuniere with the game chips and vegetables."

"Chips?" Harm queried sardonically.

"Yes, but these really are like your chips, not fries!" Gill laughed.

Harm nodded, "Seems fair enough. Now, if you'll excuse me."

Harm left Gill alone for maybe five minutes while he returned to the bar to place their order, five minutes which Gill spent watching the ducks and other assorted waterfowl paddling up and don the river, occasionally putting on a spurt to be the first to reach some morsel of bread that diners tossed into the river for them. Although not an ornithologist by any means, Gill did take a slight interest in the wildlife and waterfowl of the district in which she lived, and identified grebe, moor-hens, dab-chicks, swans – although she couldn't tell which species – as well as the ubiquitous mallard and other varieties of duck which she didn't recognise.

She tore her attention away from the birds as Harm returned to the table, and waited until he had taken a sip of his shandy before she ventured another question.

"If I'm prying too much, just tell me to mind my own business," she said with a small smile, "but it's obvious that Mattie means a lot to you... you have this sort of far away look in your eyes when you mention her... and a funny sort of little grin..."

"My goofy grin!" he acknowledged, "At least that's what Mattie called it. Goofy was one of her favourite words. About the first thing she ever said to me was,'well, we got one thing on common, we both got goofy names!'. That was just before she offered me a job!"

"She offered you a job? But you were in the Navy... weren't you?"

"Um... no... not exactly; me and the Navy had parted company for a while... so for a couple of months I flew crop dusters for Mattie."

Gill was itching with impatience to hear the full story of that time, but there had been a hint of shutters closing when Harm had mentioned it. If he wanted her to know, he'd tell her, if he didn't, well, she wasn't about to pry too deeply.

"So... where's Mattie now? You mentioned something about hospital," she nudged his memory.

"Did I? Oh... Well, Mattie's dad turned up and the guardianship hearing. He'd made an attempt to get his drinking under control, he even brought his AA sponsor with him, but the judge ruled that he wasn't fit to have custody of her, so... she ended up with me. Tom, Mattie's dad made a huge effort to get back in the saddle, got a job, quit drinking, was getting straight for the first time in years. Well, I knew that Mattie would have to reconcile with him, especially once she learned that he hadn't been the driver the night her mom got killed. It took time, but after about ten months, she went back to him." He ended his narration in a flat tone of voice, and for an instant Gill could see the memory of pain in his eyes.

"And something went wrong?" she asked gently.

"Yeah." Harm took a gulp of his drink, the second she was old enough, Mattie started to take flying lessons, she'd decided to she wanted to be a naval aviator..."

"Like you," Gill commented, adding an unspoken 'her hero' to her words.

"God, I hope not exactly like me!" Harm denied with a brief burst of humour, "But, anyway, she had a scheduled lesson, and they went up in marginal conditions, and while they were up, the weather worsened into a late snow-storm. When the instructor brought them back into the airport, he landed more or less on top of another 'plane that shouldn't have been where it was. The instructor and the pilot of the other 'plane was killed, and Mattie..." Harm took a deep breath, "Mattie suffered a severe concussion and trauma to her neck. She was in a coma for a couple of weeks and then when she recovered from that it was found that she couldn't move anything below her neck, she'd become a quadriplegic."

"Oh... that's awful..." Gill gasped, her sympathies stirred.

"It's not quite that bad," she gradually got the feeling back in her upper body and arms, and she's working on rehab to get her legs functioning again. At the moment she's in a wheelchair, staying with friends just outside DC. She was discharged from hospital just before July Fourth, and they all kept it a secret from me, until I got back to Alexandria."

"What a wonderful surprise!" Gill exclaimed.

"Yeah, it was..." Harm's eyes took on that far-away look again, and for a second or two Gill thought they'd become extra shiny with tears, but put that down to her own emotions reacting to the story.

"Anyway, Harm went on in a much crisper tone, "I've applied for formal adoption. Mattie's accident was the last straw for Tom, and he fell off the wagon big time, and he's done anther disappearing act. The judge turned down my petition, but we've launched an appeal, and this time, I'm going to be in court for the hearing. My posting to the UK has solved most of the objections the judge had so I'm cautiously optimistic, and if she's made the progress the doctors anticipate, then Mattie should be fit to travel at around that time too. They said around Labour Day, and that's the Monday after the Friday hearing, so with just a modicum of luck we'll be settled in here by Christmas!"

"I'll drink to that!" Gill said cheerfully, suiting her actions to her words.

"Likewise!" Harm agreed tilting his glass towards her before he drank.

Their conversation was interrupted as the waitress approached with a loaded tray, and served them their meals as well as adding condiments. Noting the diminished levels in their glasses, she asked, "Would you like top ups, or would you prefer wine, sir?"

Harm looked across at Gill, "I'll stick to shandy," she said decidedly.

Harm nodded, "Make that two, please!"

"Ah... just a half for me, this time!" Gill added.

The waitress a middle-aged woman smiled, "Pint and a half of... she looked at the glasses shrewdly, "bitter shandy, coming right up!"

Gill felt that she had just about probed enough for the day, and while they ate she changed the subject completely, drawing Harm's attention to the antics of the various waterfowl on the river, pointing out the various species that she'd identified, "and that little one... that's a dab-chick... although I think they're actually a sub-species of grebe..."

Harm shook his head, "I can just about tell the difference between a duck and swan," he confessed his ignorance, "but other than that... I don't know you do it!" he chuckled.

Gill grinned as an imp of mischief sprang to life in her mind, here was a chance for a little payback for the way he had wound her up earlier. "And you're a pilot!" she said reproachfully.

"Aviator," he corrected her gently, "The Zoomies – the Air Force have pilots," he spoke the word almost pityingly, "We have aviators!" he finished grandly.

"Whatever!" Gill replied dismissively, "It's simply a matter of weft!"

"Weft?" Harm queried.

"Sure, if you can tell the difference between a... a... Flogger and a Fencer... then you should be able to tell a mallard from a pintail using the same method."

"What method?" Harm asked temporarily befuddled by the rapid switch from bird to airplane and back to bird.

"Haven't you been listening?" Gill demanded in false exasperation, "I just told, you, weft!"

"Yeah... but what is weft?" Harm demanded in turn, and then as the words left his mouth, he realised what Gill meant and that she had set him up for this. He closed his eyes in weary resignation as he waited for Gill to throw the other shoe to the floor.

"Why, Captain," she said in tones of spurious astonishment, as she enjoyed delivering the punch-line, "Don't tell me that you don't know the acronym for Wings, Engine, Tail and Fuselage!"

"Yeah... I got it... just a fraction of a second too late!" he groaned and then looked at her accusingly, "You set me up for that didn't you?"

"Of course!" Gill grinned, "Just think of it as payback for your crack about the money!"

"Ah... OK... in that case, touché, but remember, what's good for the goose is good for the gander!"

"Sauce," Gill corrected through her grin, "Sauce for the goose!"

"Whatever!" Harm grinned, and then became slightly more serious, "But where did you learn about aircraft recognition?"

"Self preservation!" Gill replied, "Under the old tactical doctrine, the RAF were responsible for attacking Warpac airfields, turning off the tap as it were, while the Luftwaffe and the USAF were to provide a fighter umbrella. Well, counting up the number of aircraft on each side, we figured that enough Warpac jets would get through to make life pretty uncomfortable for us guys on the ground, so we had to able to learn to identify friendly from hostile, without having access to radar sets that could pick up IFF signals."

"Yeah... I never thought of that... Ours would have been a different war... taking out Bears and Bisons with over-the-horizon missiles..."

"Yes, we all read Hackett's 'The Third World War'," Gill agreed, "Thank God it never came to pass!"

"Amen to that!" Harm agreed, "But... we're supposed to be off duty and enjoying ourselves... not talking about war!"

"True!" Gill said apologetically, "but remember, if it hadn't been for Larkhill Day we would never have met!"

"OK, I'll accept that... Now, you said you'd been here before?2

"Oh yes, I used to come here with my brother and his girlfriend and any sort of ad-hoc escort I could drum up at short notice..."

"It's a bit of a trek from Tidworth, isn't it, I mean with an ad hoc date?"

"It is!" Gill agreed, her eyes once again dancing with mischief, "But it's only about twenty miles from home... Now, there's a thought... We could call in on Mummy and Daddy on our way back to London, it wouldn't be much of a detour..."

Gill waited until the full import of what he had just said sunk into Harm's mind. His reaction was all that she had thought it might be. He went pale, and gulped, his eyes opened wide in horror and Gill was almost sure she could sweat beginning to bead his brow. It was no good. She couldn't resist, and broke out into gales of open laughter, attracting the attention of other of the pubs patrons, who turned in their seats with indulgent grins to observe the cheerful couple.

For a second, Harm felt his temper slip, and then feeling slightly ashamed, he gulped, and shook his head, "That was dirty pool!" he complained, "And more than enough payback for earlier!"

"Oh, I know!" Gill half-sobbed, as she fished in her pocket for a handkerchief with which to mop her streaming eyes. "But it was so perfect... and the best thing was that I hadn't planned it... no sooner had the idea popped into my head, then the words popped right out of my mouth!"

"Dirty, dirty pool!" Harm still grumbled, but the lurking smile at the corners of his mouth hinted that he had recovered his sense of humour. "Not that I'd mind meeting your folks, one day. But I'd like a bit of warning first. So I could prepare myself for the ordeal."

"Yes... if we decide that we do have something going for us, then you'll have to meet them... but it wouldn't be by an unannounced visit; that could be disastrous. Oh, mummy and daddy are fine, they may be a little put out if we intruded on them without warning, but they'd come round quickly enough. No," she added thoughtfully, "It's granny we'd have to watch out for. She'd consider it extremely ill-mannered if I just turned up without notice, dragging a guest behind me. Although... you are Navy... so that might score some points with her!"

"Just great!" Harm shot back, "Now you've got me trembling in my boots! She sounds just like Grams, and I can assure you, I do not cross Grams!"

"Grams?" Gill queried.

"Yeah, my paternal grandmother. She has a farm in Pennsylvania, about four hours drive from DC. She's well into her eighties, keeps the farm running and spends the rest of her time terrorising the whole county!"

"Terrorising?" Gill choked on more laughter.

"Yeah," Harm smiled in fond memory, "She's got an old nineteen forties or fifties ex-government Willy's jeep, an old open-topped thing which she drives on the local roads. As far as she's concerned, its only got two speeds, flank speed and finish with engines!"

"OK... I get the picture, and the concept of flank speed, as meaning very fast, but what's its derivation? In the Royal Navy, it's full-ahead all engines for maximum speed, not in the USN?"

"OK... I'm on shaky ground here, it's not my area of expertise... but a ship has a theoretical maximum speed, what it was designed for. Well flank speed is it's true maximum speed, which often is greater than designed maximum speed. We only use flank speed in emergencies... in a non-nuclear propelled ship, flank speed can use up seven times the ordinary amount of fuel!"

Gill chuckled, "So your Grams is a bit like the Beach Boys' 'Little Old Lady from Pasadena'?" she asked.

Harm gave a crack of laughter, "Yeah, I suppose. Good God, I haven't thought about the Beach Boys since I left home in eighty-one! But a nearer equivalent of the Old Lady would be mom. Although she's from La Jolla, not Pasadena she drives Mercedes roadster coupé!"

"And what do... did... you drive back home?" Gill asked.

"Oh... most of the time I drove a Lexus SUV, but I also had a classic Corvette that I... well, a friend and I built from the chassis up... oh... and a classic Indian motorcycle for a while..."

"H'mm... let me guess, the Corvette is a sports car? Fills your need for speed?"

"Oh, no... not you too!" Harm groaned and then continued, "And if you mean a two-seater convertible, then yeah, it was!" harm agreed.

"Was?"

"Yeah, it's in storage."

"Sensible," Gill mused and then creased her forehead, "What did you mean by 'not you too'?"

"That damn' Tom Cruise comedy, Top Gun!" harm expostulated.

"Oh... the need for speed... is that where the tag comes from? I've never seen the film, so I suppose I must have heard the expression somewhere. But it wasn't a comedy, was it?"

"It was if you've ever been to the real Top Gun!" Harm said firmly.

"And you have?" Gill queried, and then as memory returned of Sue saying something abut Harm having won a DFC, she nodded, "Yes, of course you have! It was in your potted history in your Navy Times!"

"You looked me up?!" Harm said totally stunned by her revelation.

"Of course I did!" Gill said, the 'duh' was unspoken, but Harm still heard it "I wanted to know what the army had dumped on me!"

"Ah... so... you felt like you'd been dumped on... That explains your initial hostility, then." Harm smiled.

Gill blushed, "Oh, please, don't remind me! But it wasn't just the army, it was Sue... she kept on about how...how... well..."

"How 'dishy' I was?" Harm asked greatly amused.

"Yes!" Gill snapped, now blushing furiously and not daring to meet Harm's eye, glared down at the remains of her lunch.

"Hey... it's alright, you know. I'm not mad," Harm said softly.

"Maybe not," Gill said, "but that doesn't make me feel any less foolish."

Harm leaned back, "I had a good friend, who once told me when I had done something even more dumb than usual, that a friend is someone, who when you feel you have made a fool of yourself, doesn't think you've done a permanent job!"

It took Gill a few seconds to work through what Harm had just said, and then she raised her head to face him, "And are we friends?" she asked.

"Of course we are!" he said in surprise.

"So... I'm not a complete fool?"

"Not in my book!" Harm said.

"Ah..." Gill said enigmatically, thinking, then there is still some hope for us being better than just friends... But then, Gillian Shepherd! where the hell did that just come from?"

xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx

Julia settled into the driver's seat of the rental, and with a smile and wave through the window she made a last goodbye to Johnny's mom and his two sisters before she turned the key in the ignition and fired up the engine, ready to follow Johnny out of the village and back to the main road. He to head south for Tidworth and she to head east to Northolt.

It was with a feeling of regret that she left Johnny's home behind her. From the instant she had arrived she had been made to feel as if she was one of the family. Practically the first thing Mrs Walker had said, after she'd greeted her with a hug and a kiss on the cheek was, "Sit down dear, and have a cup of tea! Timothy's not here yet, but he 'phoned. He was a bit late getting away, something to do with a new Battery Captain, he said, but he should be here by seven. I hope you can wait until then for your dinner?"

"Yes, ma'am!"

"Well once you've had your cup of tea, Zoe can take you upstairs. I've put you in Alison's room... she's away for the weekend. Don't worry, dear, there's clean sheets on the bed, and your room is right next to mine, so if you need anything later on just give me a call!"

"Yes, ma'am."

"And stop calling me ma'am. You can call me Judith."

"Uh... no... I wouldn't feel right calling you that... how about Mrs Walker?" Julia suggested.

"Well, if you're more comfortable that way, dear, then so be it!" Johnny's mother had agreed.

The tea drunk, Zoe had taken Julia upstairs and shown her the bedroom she was to use and had plumped down on the end of the bed while Julia unpacked her sea-bag.

"Alison's over in Cambridge, she's got a job interview first thing Monday morning. It's something to do with the university, her boyfriend's a post grad there, and there's a vacancy for a lab assistant, and as she's a BSc in chemistry, it might be a way for her to work up to her Master's and then a Doctorate if she's lucky." Zoe shrugged, "There's no funding for Master's Degree's and we, the family, couldn't afford to keep her at University. I didn't even bother applying!"

"Anyway," Zoe rattled on, "I'm afraid you're in for it tonight. My boyfriend's coming to pick me up at eight, he's got some sort of deadly company do to go to. He's not really got a choice. So this evening it's just going to be you, Timmy and mum! So you can expect a thorough grilling"

"I already was!" Julia smiled. "Even from just knowing your mom for a short time, I can almost figure her out, she's just like mine. There's none of us at home ever brought a boyfriend or girlfriend into the house without them getting the third degree!" Julia gave a mock shudder. "The funny thing is though, it was always mom who did the questioning. You'd have thought it was dad who'd be the interrogator – he's a sheriff's deputy, but it was always mom. Gotta say though, that when the boys at school learned who dad was, the bad hats steered well clear of us. But even with the nice guys, he used to sit at the kitchen table cleaning his side arm while mom was interrogating them!"

Zoe broke out into a peal of laughter at that snippet of news, "You got a big family?" she asked when she'd stopped laughing.

"Three sisters, three brothers," Julia admitted. "Fredo's the oldest, he's a sergeant in the Albuquerque PD. Tomas was next, he joined the Marines..." Julia's face nearly crumpled as she remembered the pain of her brother's loss, but then she rallied, "Then Maria, she joined the Air Force as a medic, then there's me, and after me there's Consuela, she's a police officer in Cochise county, then Ramón, he's the other sensible one in the family, he joined the Navy, and then there's Theresa, the baby of the family. She's at college in San Diego, says she wants to join the services, but hasn't decided which one yet."

"Wow!" Zoe stared huge-eyed at Julia, "All of your family are in uniform!"

"Not quite!" Julia disagreed, "La Mamacita, says she never had time for such foolishness!"

"La... who?"

"La Mamacita, mom, it literally means 'little mother' in Spanish!"

All in uniform, hey? I wonder if Timmy knows what he's let himself in for!

"I wonder if you know what you'll be letting yourself in for if he hears you call him that!" Julia grinned, "He told me hates it!"

"Of course he does! That's why I call him it!" Zoe giggled, "but worse than that, I mustn't let mum hear me call him that either. She hates it when any of us shorten names!"

"Oh... but I keep calling him Johnny!" Julia gasped.

"Oh, that's a nickname, and while she may not like it too much, you're a guest so she won't get at you! Anyway, plans for the weekend: Mum's got a couple of jobs for Johnny to do in the morning, so I'm going to take you shopping in Aylesbury Then mum's got a table booked at the Dog and Duck for tomorrow night. Sunday morning it's church service for us kids while mum gets Sunday dinner going, and then you'll be off back to barracks, I expect. Johnny never stays later than about five on a Sunday!"

A commotion downstairs announced Johnny's arrival and put an end to Zoe's non-stop stream of chatter, and the two young women hurried downstairs to meet Johnny, who was still in uniform, not having waited to change before leaving Tidworth. He greeted Zoe readily enough with the careless offhand but real affection that appeared to Julia to permeate the whole family, but he only had eyes for Julia it seemed, and careless of his mother's gasp and Zoe's "Oh, wow!" he scooped Julia up in his arms and kissed her very gently, but very thoroughly!

It was probably that unbridled display of affection, Julia thought, that brought about the most memorable sentence of the evening. She, Johnny and his mother were at the dinner table and taking advantage of a break in the conversation, Judith Walker fixed her son with a stare of laser-like intensity and said, "Now pay attention young man! I have put Julia in Alison's room, so I don't want to hear any footsteps on the landing tonight – in either direction!" She transferred her narrow-eyed stare to Julia for a few seconds, "And that goes for you too, young lady! I don't care, and I don't want to know what you get up to anywhere else, but there will be no hanky-panky under my roof. Understand!"

Even as she replied, "Yes, ma'am!" Julia was amused and relieved to see that Johnny was blushing just as much as she was!


	20. Chapter 20

Harm climbed into the pool car with a broad grin on his face. The afternoon with Gill had ended with a coffee in her room, which she called her 'bunk', in the Ordnance Hill Mess, after which, and a gentle kiss on his cheek he had driven back to Northolt. This morning after an early wake up and a restricted run – the RAF were flying today, he had showered, feeling that all – or nearly was well with his world, and had even had time to snatch a hasty breakfast and two mugs of coffee before Julia Martinez arrived to take him to work.

Even the news that greeted him at the CP that Admiral Taylor wanted to see him 'at his earliest convenience' couldn't diminish his sunny mood, and with a cheery, "Go on up Yeoman Two, and start the coffee, I doubt I'll be long," he had turned on his heel and cut through the rear entrance of the wing that housed Jag and across the inner courtyard to the rear entrance of the embassy. Returning the Marine sentry's salute, Harm had made his way to the suite of offices that housed the Naval Attaché and within a few minutes was cloistered with Rear Admiral John Joseph Taylor III to receive the good news that COMNAVFOREUR had decided that the Labour Day holiday this year should be marked by a softball game between Navy and Marine Corps teams and that having seen what a good job JAG had made of their own softball game on July Fourth, he had decided that JAG should have the privilege of organising the Labour Day game. This included trawling all ships and USMC detachments afloat and ashore for nominations for the teams, and organising temporary accommodation for the players for the week prior to the game so that the ad-hoc teams had a chance to settle down into cohesive units.

His cheerful "Aye, aye, sir" had left Admiral Taylor almost gawping at him in disbelief as he had tucked the outline document into his shirt pocket and left the Admiral's office, a plan to resolve his problem already formulating in his head.

Harm's good mood was further enhanced when left the Embassy main building and cut back across the yard toward the wing that housed JAG HQ, barely aware of the squad of Marines who stood in formation, until the NCO in charge of the formation suddenly about-faced and shouted "JAG on deck!"

As the formation braced to attention the NCO executed a perfect salute, but it was the voice that brought Harm's to a precipitate halt and his head whipping around to stare at the Marines. After a couple of seconds of incredulity, Harm returned the salute, and a huge grin creased his face.

"Gunny!" he exclaimed, "Front and centre!"

Victor Galindez snapped, "At ease!" to his Marines and then marched across the stretch of tarmac towards Harm and halted just in front of the smiling Naval officer. "Not Gunny, any more, sir!" he grinned, "First Sergeant Galindez reporting sir!"

"By all that's holy, it's more than just good to see you Gu... uh... First Sergeant... but what are you doing here? Not that I'm not pleased to see you, but...uh... I guess more than a little surprised!"

Victor Galindez grasped Harm's offered hand in a firm grip and allowed a fleeting smile to cross his rather stern featured face, "Well, sir, with the increase of anti-American attacks on Embassies worldwide, the security detachments have all been increased. Here in England, they've bumped it up to a full company strength, and I got chosen to fill the billet!"

"And the extra rocker to go with the billet?"

"No sir, this is my second tour as First Shirt, my other billet was downrange sir!"

"Well, it's good to see you First Sergeant, no matter what the circumstances. Once you've gotten yourself settled in, come and visit with us in JAG! It's not quite Falls Church, but we try!"

"I'll do that, sir!" The Marine promised and taking a step back, he whipped up another drill-field standard salute, "By your leave, sir?"

"Yes, Gunny, dismissed!" Harm again returned the salute and watched the NCO about-face and return to the waiting formation.

One more reason to be cheerful on a Monday morning, Harm thought as he climbed the stairs to the third floor JAG offices. He had to get rid of the extra calories he'd eaten and drunk over the weekend he told himself!

"Good morning Legalman One!" He called out to Jen as he whisked into his office before Jen or Julia had a chance to do more than half rise from their seats, but barely had he closed the door behind him when he opened it again, causing both young women to abort their return to their chairs and start to stand again.

"Any sign of that Coffee, Yeoman Two?" he smiled.

"Sir! Yes, sir!" a slightly flustered Julia replied, but as soon as he closed his office door both she and Jen collapsed back into their chairs.

"What's got into him this morning?" Jen asked bemusedly. "He's not normally a morning person, and the last time I saw him this cheerful was when he got guardianship of Mattie!"

Julia shrugged, "I don't know... he's been like this ever since he left his quarters this morning! And I swear he positively bounced down the steps and along the path to the car! Not even a summons to Admiral Taylor upset him – and that usually does the trick!"

Jen grinned and shook her head, "That all may very well be true, but I do know one thing that will sour his mood – and that is if he doesn't get his coffee PDQ!"

"Good thinking!" Julia agreed as she once again rose from her seat, this time to head for the galley.

Harm looked up from the first of the many folders that required his attention this morning, calling out "Enter!" in response to the knock at his door.

Julia Martinez let herself in, a mug of steaming coffee in her hand,"Ah... put it on the desk, please Yeoman Two, and then pass the word for Lieutenant Sullivan, and then when she arrives, come in with her!"

"Aye, aye, sir!" Julia said, as she was duty bound to, although Harm could see the curiosity building in her eyes.

"Nothing to worry about, Yeoman Two, I'll explain everything to you both once the Lieutenant gets here!"

Harm smiled as Julia let herself out of the office. He knew it was childish of him, but he was in that sort of mood today, and he was anticipating enjoying the moment when expressions of consternation filled their faces as he dumped the whole thing in their laps.

He had just enough time to finish his coffee, when the eagerly awaited knock at his door announced the arrival of Sullivan and Martinez. It was obvious that the Yeoman had clued the Lieutenant in that he'd wanted to see them both, as the dark-haired officer came to a halt, "Lieutenant Sullivan and Yeoman Two Martinez, reporting as ordered, sir!"

"Stand easy, at ease!" Harm instructed and then sat back in his chair. "It will shortly be Labour Day, and once again NAVFOREUR will be celebrating a Federal Holiday, but to make it a particularly noteworthy holiday, COMNAVFOREUR has decided that there will be a softball game between Navy and Marine Corps Europe. To that end all Corps units and naval ships in the command will be trawled to produce individual stars. The teams will assemble here in London the week before Labour Day in order to select the best players from each pool. JAG London has been nominated to organise this event. And I...," he couldn't quite resist the beginning of the unholy grin that threatened to consume him, "Am nominating the pair of you to organise this... contest, right down to providing uniforms, equipment, transport, accommodation and even the diamond! I would do it myself, of course, but I'm afraid I have a court date in DC on the Friday before Labour Day, and I regret that I shall not be on station for the holiday! Carry on!"

The dumbfounded looks on Sullivan and Martinez face were all that he could have desired, and their chorused, "Aye, aye, sir" seemed a little... breathless, but he was confident that all would be completed on schedule, and that if they did hit any major snags they would have the sense to come to him before any glitches snowballed into problems. He was also willing to bet that Lieutenant Tierney would be roped in, quite unofficially, to help with the planning and execution.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

The next interruption to Harm's day didn't come until after lunch when the buzz of the intercom distracted him from reading an After Action Report from the Skipper of the _Daniel J Jackson,_ a guided missile destroyer which had encountered Somali pirates while on passage from the Indian Ocean to the Mediterranean where it was to join the Iron Ike's battle group. The Somali's had been attempting to board a Spanish freighter, the crew of which were making a valiant defence with the aid of a couple of bolt-action rifles and the ship's fire hoses. According to the report, the Jackson had approached the scene at speed and had fired a warning burst from the .50 calibre Brownings mounted on the port side Bridge wing and the Somalis had abandoned their attack on the Spaniard and sheered off at high speed,

All well and good, until a week later CENCOM had received a complaint from the Somali government accusing the skipper of the _Jackson_ of having violated Somali territorial waters, CENCOM had gleefully noted that the _Jackson_ had transferred to NAVFOEUR, and doubtless rubbing their hands in happiness, they had passed the complaint to HQ NAVFOREUR, who of course had just as happily passed it to Harm.

This was a storm in a tea-cup, and it would probably take no more than a strongly worded letter of rejection to the Somali Embassy in London, backed up by a copy of the chart of the sea area with the relative positions of the three involved vessels as shown by the GPS readings appended to the AAR, but it was a tedious process and a waste of resources. So, the interruption wasn't entirely unwelcome when it came.

Harm toggled the intercom in reply to its demand and said "Yes?"

"_Sir_," Jen said, "_there's a Commander Roberts to see you, he apologises.._."

"Bud?!" Harm's face lit up in a huge grin, "Send him in!"

"_Uh... no, sir, not our Lieutenant Commander Roberts, it's a Commander Roberts, Royal Navy_!"

"Oh... Well, send him in anyway!"

"_Aye, aye, sir_!"

Jen opened the door and announced the visitor, who stepped smartly across the carpet to halt in front of the desk, behind which Harm rose to meet him.

"Good afternoon, sir! My apologies for turning up without an appointment!"

"None needed, Commander, take a seat and tell me what brings a Royal Navy officer into this den of iniquity?" As he spoke, Harm gave the other man a careful scrutiny. He was a shade under six feet, maybe five eleven, and looked to be about one hundred and eighty or one hundred and ninety pounds. Yet he had moved lightly, totally balanced, and that together with a slightly swollen right ear made Harm think that perhaps the other officer was, or had been at one time, a boxer. Once the thought had crossed his mind he nodded to himself, yes, there was something of Mic Brumby in the way the man carried himself.

"Yes, sir. You have a Petty Officer Second Class MacLaren, who I believe is facing a charge of the theft of a bicycle, the property of our Petty Officer Nicholson..."

Harm held up a hand to stop the other officer. "Yes, I am aware of the case, but it is not quite as cut and dried as you make it. Firstly it is the alleged theft of a bicycle, secondly it was not in fact theft. The bicycle was returned at MacLaren's expense, and I believe UK law is the same as ours in that respect, in that the charge of theft is only substantiated by the intention to permanently deprive the owner of his goods or money. Given that the bicycle has already been returned, as far as we are concerned that kite won't fly!"

"But you concede that a crime, an alleged crime has been committed?" Roberts pressed.

"No, I won't go that far, what I will allow is that PO Two MacLaren is under investigation on a charge wrongful appropriation of private property." Harm paused to gather his thoughts, it had been a long time since he'd had to do this sort of thing on a regular basis. "What that means is that MacLaren will stand an Article Thirty-Two hearing, which under the auspices of an investigating officer will hear a summary of evidence and the IO will decide solely on the basis of that evidence whether or not MacLaren will stand trial by either a Special Court Martial of a General Court Martial."

"But he will face trial?"

"Not necessarily so. That will depend on the IO."

"And who will the IO be?"

"He will be a naval judge, an experienced attorney who has made the switch from litigation to the bench. I believe much the same sort of thing is the case with your... barristers turned judges?"

Roberts nodded, "Yes, sir, pretty much the same."

"Good... now... just to satisfy my curiosity, and yeah, I get that one of your sailors is the complainant, but this is surely a US Navy internal matter?"

"Agreed, sir, But unfortunately the US Forces in the UK have an unfortunate reputation of quoting SOFA to retain jurisdiction over their service member – which is perfectly proper – but then what isn't proper, is that they whisk the accused back to the USA without taking any action at all against the guilty party. I know that sounds as if we mistrust you, but the latest incident was only a couple of years ago, when a drunken US Air Force airman from Lakenheath got behind the wheel of his car and killed two young girls when he ploughed into their bicycles. He was arrested on the spot by our civilian police, but on SOFA being quoted he was released into Air Force custody, but rather than being retained in the UK to face disciplinary action, he was shipped back to the USA. It took months for the families of the two young girls to get any sort of answer as to what had happened to him. The Commanding Officer flatly refused to answer any questions because whatever happened was a USAF Internal Matter. It took our Foreign Office to put pressure on your State Department to find out that in the end the airman wasn't charged with anything because he was now 'out of the jurisdiction where the alleged offence occurred'!"

Harm's face lost its hint of an indulgent smile as he listened to the British Officer's tale. And at the conclusion he sat back in his chair, his hands resting lightly on the chair arms. "I am now going to speak as a private citizen of the United States, not as an officer in her Navy. Do you understand the distinction I am drawing?"

"I do," Roberts agreed.

"Good. I am appalled and horrified that an officer of my country's armed forces would act in such a manner, and whoever the directing force behind this travesty has my unreserved contempt. But as a private citizen, I can do nothing to rectify the situation. I can only say that I am ashamed of my countrymen. Naturally, I shall deny that those words ever passed my lips, even as a private citizen,

"Unfortunately as an officer of the United States Navy, I can say nothing. I am prohibited by our Uniform Code of Military Justice from criticising any officer of higher rank than myself. All I can say is that the case against Maclaren will be investigated, and if the IO should decide that there is a case to answer then MacLaren will face a trial. However, there is one point which you haven't mentioned, and so I wonder if you are aware that the two Petty officers are brothers in law – MacLaren's sister is Nicholson' wife – and that there is a history of bad blood between the two men."

"No... I wasn't aware of that!" Roberts said bitterly, "But... I'd like to be kept informed of how things proceed... in fact, if you have no objections, I wouldn't mind sitting in on the hearing, and on the trial – if there is to be one!"

"Not at all," Harm said, happy to put a positive turn on the conversation. "If you have a card, I'll make sure my Legalman keeps you up to date..."

"Thank you, sir." Roberts stood to allow himself to fish a card from his pocket, "And I think I've taken up quite enough of your time, sir!"

Harm took the card and immediately transferred it to his left hand, offering the British Officer his right, "It was a pleasure meeting you Commander, and I look forward to seeing you at MacLaren's hearing."

"Thank you, sir. I only wish our meeting had been under more pleasant circumstances! By your leave, Sir?"

"Certainly. Goodbye Commander."

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Jen had hoped to take advantage of Harm's sunnier than usual mood and ask him to accompany her to view the apartment in Church Road, Stanmore. Now, she bit her lip nervously and wondered if the visit from the British Officer had spoiled that mood; the expression on Roberts' face as he'd left was certainly more sombre than when he had arrived.

Biting her lip, Jen stood and with a smile in Julia's direction, she tapped on Harm's office door, and waited for his call for her to enter.

Opening the door, she started, "Sir...?"

"Come on in Jen, he said affably, I was just about to call you to come to see me! But as you got in the first strike what is it you need?"

"Sir, if this isn't a good time, I..."

"Jen it's a perfectly good time. I say again, what can I do for you?"

"Last week, sir, when I talked about moving off-base, you said you'd OK my application for OHA if you approved of the premises. Well, I've found somewhere, the total travel time is about forty minutes by tube and on foot... and I was wondering when it would be convenient for you to take a look at the place, sir?"

"Have you made an appointment with the realtor? You aren't doing this through a private landlord are you?" Harm added a slight look of concern on his face.

"Oh, no, sir! A real estate agency, that's how I found the place, by looking through their listings, and no sir, I haven't made an appointment yet, I was waiting to see if you could..."

Even while Jen spoke, Harm looked at his calendar for the week, although given the current paucity of his social life that was pretty much a no-brainer. "OK, tomorrow after secure; how's that suit you?"

"Thank you sir!" Jen's gratitude spilled out in a rush.

Harm's face split again into a grin of amusement at his Legalman's obvious relief. For some reason moving off-base was important to her. And if it was important to Jennifer Coates, then it was important to Harmon Rabb.

"OK, go ahead and make the appointment with the realtor!" Harm paused for a second or two, "And now that's out of the way, the reason I wanted you. I need you to carry out some research. I have just been told a story of our Forces in the UK exploiting SOFA to avoid having a US Serviceman tried in a UK court on the British equivalent of vehicular manslaughter while DUI. It wasn't pleasant hearing, especially as it was strongly implied that the case I was being told about was not an isolated incident. I want you to go back ten years and search through UK news outlets, local and syndicated and see of you can find any other examples. I hope you don't, but I don't want you to whitewash anything either."

Jen's face sobered as Harm spoke, "Understood, sir," she said gravely.

"Thank you, Jen. Dismissed."

"Aye, aye, sir!" Jen about-faced, left the office and returned to her desk, a thoughtful expression on her face.

"Something wrong?" Julia asked.

"No... not wrong... not exactly...It's just that the Captain has given me a research project, and I'm not entirely sure where to start... No, that's not true... I have no idea where to start!"

"Oh." Julia's face mirrored her surprise. Even in the short time she and Jen had worked together, she had been impressed with the older woman's resourcefulness and application, "What sort of research?"

Julia listened carefully while Jen explained what she'd been tasked to do, but at the end of shook her head. "I wouldn't know where to start either," she confessed, and then an idea occurred to her, "But... I might know a man who does." she said slowly and reached for her telephone.

Jen just stared at her and said "You do? Who?"

Julia grinned and mouthed "Wait!" while she waited for the recipient of her call to pick up the phone, "Hi Johnny, it's Julia,"

"_Julia, you shouldn't be calling me at work_!"

"Ah, but this is about work, sweetheart..." Julia smiled into the 'phone and then briefly explained what she was looking for.

Johnny listened to the explanation and then said, "_Well, I'm not a hundred per cent certain either. and what I'm about to say may not give a hundred per cent cover, but I reckon your best bet would be to contact the local TV and radio stations in the areas where there are US bases. You'd need to contact their archive sections, but if what you say is true, there's bound to be some ill-feeling. Some of what you get might just be hearsay. but I remember something along those lines happening at Newbury... when the so-called 'Peace Camp' was set up right outside the base gates at Greenham Common. Something about one of the women being assaulted by an off-duty serviceman. Hang on a second, and I'll read you out the names of the local TV companies, and the towns they're based in..."_

"You have that sort of information to hand?" Julia asked in astonishment.

"_Sure... on the TV Guide page of the newspaper_!" Johnny grinned. "_It's not a lot, but it gives you somewhere to start looking_!"

The call ended and Julia put the 'phone down, passing the list she had scribbled to Jen, who took it almost in awe, "Who was that?" she asked.

"Oh... that was my boyfriend," Julia blushed as she suddenly realised that was the first time she had ever called Johnny by that title, not even to herself had she admitted as much.

"He something to do with TV News?" Jen asked in mild surprise.

"Oh, no... he's army, British Army," Julia said happily.

Jen looked at her co-worker in astonishment, "But how would he know...?" she fluttered the piece of paper in her hand.

"He's a very resourceful guy, is my guy!" Julia said proudly, and even from where she sat Jen could see the happiness in Julia's eyes.

"Oh, wow! You've got it bad, girl!"

"Yeah, I guess I have!" Julia admitted happily, and then signalled the end of that particular conversation by returning her attention to the open file that lay on her desk

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Tuesday at seventeen hundred found Jen waiting more or less patiently for Harm as he gave a final briefing to Julia, "So... get the car to the address that Legalman One Coates gave you, and wait for she and I to rejoin you, then you take us all back to Northolt, got it?"

"Got it, sir!"

"Good. Coates and I will take the subway to this place..."

"Stanmore, sir," Julia supplied helpfully.

Harm sent a baleful glare her way, "Exactly. Stanmore. Now, apparently it will take Coates and I about forty minutes to get there, so if you get there much before us, don't start getting anxious! Understood?"

"Understood, sir!"

"Good, now, get going!"

"Aye, aye, sir!"

The journey took, as Jen had forecast a little over forty minutes that included the walk to Bond Street tube station and the walk from Stanmore tube station to Church Street, The agency representative had already arrived and had unlocked the apartment and was waiting for them. She looked a little confused as Harm and Jen approached and stood to greet them, "Ah... Mister and Mrs Coates?" she asked, looking at the clip board in her hand.

"No, this is Miss Coates. I am Harmon Rabb her CO, I'm just here to check that the apartment is suitable," Harm told her while a mortified Jen blushed fiercely.

Her faux-pas seemed to have thrown the estate agent off-balance and her usual glib spiel faltered under the quizzical look in Harm's eyes as he and Jen followed her around the apartment and noted its salient features.

"I see that the apartment is advertised as furnished," Harm observed, looking around the living-cum-dining room, "but the furniture is a bit sparse, isn't it?"

"Yes, it is," the estate agent admitted. But it is a flat meant for two people and as you can see there are two dining chair and two easy chairs..."

"And any visitors would sit where?" Harm asked.

"Oh... that would be at the lessee's discretion..."

In the meantime, Jen had wandered into the bathroom and stood gazing in awe at not only the huge, old fashioned claw-foot bathtub, but by the six foot square modern shower. Reaching into the shower stall, she took the hand-held shower head off its clamp and turned on the water. Jen fell in love with the shower the second the force of the water rushing down the hose and out through the nozzle made the shower head buck in her hand. That alone almost made her want to move in immediately, and then her happy gaze fell on the bath. Nodding to herself, she returned to the living room.

"Have you got a moment, sir?"

"Yes, of course." Harm broke off his conversation with the estate agent and took a few steps to one side.

"I like it sir!" Jen enthused, but quietly. "The bathroom is to die for! It's fantastic!"

"Well... the rest of the place isn't quite that good, Jen. But it's clean, light, airy, structurally sound... and it looks like Mattie won't come to any harm in here."

"No, sir. And it's less than five minutes from the shopping area... No, there aren't any designer outlets, but it's OK for grocery shopping... and there's a free library..."

"OK, Jen, you've persuaded me. Let's get the details sorted with Miss What's-her-name..."

"Lincoln!" Jen giggled, "Miss Lincoln."

In a few minutes Miss Lincoln had agreed to send a lease agreement to JAG HQ at the US Embassy, and subject to it meeting with legal approval, then Jen would sign it and send it back to the estate agency with a cheque for the first month's rent and security deposit.

Hands were shaken all round and Harm and Jen left Miss Lincoln to secure the apartment and stepped outside into the summer evening to see the car-pool sedan waiting for them in the building's tiny parking lot.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

The journey home was competed in comfortable silence. Harm for once in the rear seat while Jen sat up front with Julia, taking a keen interest in the route taken and the Sat Nav mounted on the sedan's dashboard.

Harm was dropped off first and stood on the doorstep of his house waiting until Julia had pulled away from the kerbside before unlocking his front door and making for the kitchen

An hour later showered, watered and fed, he lay back against the squabs of the couch and picked up his telephone.

"Hey, you, how was your day?"

"_Oh... same old, same old_," Gill smiled, "_How was yours_?"

"Pretty good, although I think I threw a few of my staff into a flat spin today..."

"_How did you manage that?_" Gill chuckled.

"Well. I kept thinking about Friday and Sunday, and I guess I spent most of yesterday and today wandering around on cloud nine with a sappy smile on my face!"

"_Oh? What was so special about Friday and Sunday_?" Gill challenged teasingly.

"You." Harm said simply.

Gill had been expecting a flip, teasing response in reply to her own teasing and Harm's simple explanation temporarily robbed her of words. Her silence was so long that Harm became concerned, thinking that he had overstepped the mark somehow, and that she had rung off.

"Gill, are you still there?"

"_Y... yes... I'm still here... but I don't know what to say, you sort of took me by surprise..._"

"Oh... that's a good thing, isn't it? After all you wouldn't want me to be too predictable, would you?" Harm asked half-seriously, half jokingly.

"_No... No, I definitely wouldn't want that... but next time a little warning before you say something so sweet might help me to keep some air in my lungs_!" Gill said, making a recovery.

"Took your breath away, huh?" Harm asked, realising as he did so that he felt smugly pleased with himself, and then winced as his conscious mind made the Top Gun connection.

"_Rendered me totally breathless_," Gill said, and to Harm's relief, totally missing the link _"And how the hell am I going to top tha_t?"

"I don't know," Harm confessed, "but how about I give you until Friday evening to think of a way? I could pick you up at... say... nineteen thirty hours... and then you could spend the whole evening getting even with me?"

"Yes... yes, I'd like that... let me know where we're going so I can dress appropriately?"

"Sure, I'll call you tomorrow or Thursday."

"OK, I look forward to that... and to seeing you on Friday.

"Yeah, g'bye Gill."

"G'bye Harm."

Harm put the phone down and smiled gently to himself.

Gill put her phone down and lay back on her pillows a soft, wondering smile wreathing her face, who could have thought that her rough, tough daring navy pilot slash lawyer could come out with something so unexpectedly sweet, right out of the blue like that. Hey, wait a minute! The thinking part of her brain interrupted her thoughts, what do you man by 'your rough tough, etcetera?'. Just that, 'my sailor,' Gill told herself, well for the present, anyway... though it would be interesting, to say the least, to see how far they could take this... relationship, she supposed it was becoming.

A grin then creased her face and she sat up on her bed again and reached for her 'phone and dialled a familiar number.

"Hello, Sue? It's Gill... Do you remember that not totally repulsive Yankee sailor? Well, I just thought I'd let you know..."

Gill winced and snatched the phone away from her ear as Sue's excited squeal carried over the airwaves.


	21. Chapter 21

**21**

The next few days would be jam-packed, not so much for Harm, but Jen, Julia and even Theresa Sullivan had more than enough on their plates as they coped with research into SOFA abuses and the initial planning stages for the NAVFOREUR Labour Day softball match, on top of their usual duties. Julia took the brunt of actually producing the various communiqués for dissemination to units of the fleet, as Lieutenant Sullivan found herself responsible for prosecuting nearly a dozen sailors from the _USS Walter Harriman_ who had become overly exuberant while on shore leave and had succeeded in upsetting the sensibilities of a similar number of Royal Marines, resulting in a free and frank exchange of opinions which left the landlord of an historic pub in Plymouth contemplating a bill for several thousand pounds for repairs to furniture, fixtures and fittings and for loss of inventory.

When he first heard of the case, and in light of commander Roberts' recent disclosures over the abuse of SOFA, Harm picked up his phone, dialled zero, and waited for Julia Martinez to pick up.

"Yes, Sir?"

Harm picked up the card that Roberts had left with him and said, "Yeoman Two, get me an outside line, please..."

"Aye, aye, Sir!"

Within seconds the dialling tone sounded in Harm's ear and he dialled the number on Roberts' card and once again waited for the phone at the other end to be picked up.

"_Naval Legal Services, PO Thurgood, Sir._"

"Good morning, Petty Officer, This is Captain Rabb, US Navy Judge Advocate General In London, I'd like to speak with Commander Roberts, or if he's not available another ranking attorney, please."

"_One moment, Sir, I'll put you through…_"

Once again, Harm was left waiting for a phone to be picked up, but at least, he consoled himself, The Royal Navy Hadn't gone in for Vivaldi's damned Four Seasons! And in the event, he wasn't kept waiting for many seconds after all.

"_This is Roberts, Sir, how may I help you this morning_?"

"Good morning Commander, I'm calling about the bar fight in Plymouth last weekend. The Task Force Commander responsible for our sailors has raised charges against them. We are claiming our rights under SOFA, but I want to assure you the sailors will face due procedure. Can I take it that your Marines will also face charges?"

Commander Roberts gave a brief snort of cynical amusement, "_Yes, but they will be civilian charges brought by the CPS – that's the Crown Prosecution Service, bit like the DA system in the USA. Then depending on how severely they ticked off their CO, they may face military charges arising from the same incident._"

"Double jeopardy?" Harm asked in some surprise.

"_No, not quite. The civilian charges, and please remember these are only examples, Sir, could range from common assault, assault occasioning ABH, inflicting GBH, wounding, making an affray. Then there is the question of compensation. It is my understanding that the pub landlord is facing a hefty bill, so will be seeking compensation for that and for the loss of stock. If the Marines' CO wants to inflict an additional military punishment, he will have to wait until the CPS have made up their mind as to what charges to raise, and then have his Marines charged, but he'll probably have to be content with conduct to the prejudice of good order and military discipline, or similar charges. Is that a help, Sir?"_

_"_Yes, that's very helpful, thank you. But, if I can trespass on your time for a few more minutes. I know you're not a civilian judge, but how likely are your Marines to receive a sentence of confinement from the court?"

"_Not very likely at all, Sir. Magistrates' courts are well aware that putting a serviceman in jail, even for a short period, can have a terminal effect on his career. The Marines in question are far more likely to be given hefty fines and ordered to pay at least partial compensation. It will still go on their records as a civilian criminal conviction which will count against their final assessment of conduct on discharge, but it will be the hit their pocket that really hurts._"

"What sort of amount of fine do you think your guys would be looking at?"

Roberts thought rapidly, trying to recall fines awarded in similar cases, _"It really does vary according to where the court is, and even which panel of magistrates are sitting on a given day, but… a three to five hundred pounds fine each would seem to be in order._"

"So… No confinement, a five hundred pounds fine and, say, a similar amount in compensation?"

"_Yes, that would be about it, Sir._" Roberts replied.

"Thank you, Commander, you've been most helpful! Goodbye." Harm broke the connection but then almost immediately dialled zero, again. "Yeoman Two, pass the word for Lieutenant Sullivan, please."

Theresa Sullivan knocked on his door within a matter of minutes, entering at his invitation and halting in front of his desk, "Lieutenant Sullivan, reporting as ordered, Sir!"

"Take a seat, please, Lieutenant. The bar fight case…" Harm then went on to recount his conversation with the Royal Navy's Commander Roberts. Sullivan listened intently and when he had finished, she asked, "If I might, just for clarification, Sir?"

"Ask away, Lieutenant," Harm replied.

"Sir, this...briefing, for want of a better word, am I now to take it that you want this case pleading out?"

Harm nodded, "I think that would be the best answer, all round."

Theresa Sullivan bit her lower lip for a few seconds; there was obviously something bothering her, so when she raised her eyes and looked straight at her CO asking, "Permission to speak freely, Sir?" Harm wasn't particularly surprised.

"Go ahead, Lieutenant."

"Sir, with all due respect, aren't your actions in this case getting perilously near the exercise of undue command influence?"

Harm grunted audibly, as if he'd just been struck a heavy body blow. To cover his temporary confusion he leaned back in his chair and steepled his fingers in front of his chin. "Yeah, I can see where you might think that, but all I'm trying to do is to create a level playing field, so our guys face pretty much the same consequences for their actions as the British Marines will. I know you are obligated to provide them the best defence possible, however, they were caught red-handed by the British police, and there can be very little doubt that they were at least partially responsible for the damage caused. As I said, I spoke to the Royal Navy's legal people, and without sentencing our guys to confinement this is about as much as we can do. Of course, you're still a long way from selling this to the convening authority, that's Vice-Admiral Owen Parker, as well as your miscreants. But please be perfectly clear, I am not ordering you to table a plea-bargain, and if you feel that justice would be better served by going to trial, then that is, of course, your decision to make."

"Thank you, Sir. I'll take your comments under advisement if I may, Sir, and if it's okay by you, I'll get back to you by staff call on Monday, Sir?"

Harm nodded, "That's fine, Lieutenant. It is your decision to make. Dismissed."

"Aye, aye, Sir. Theresa Sullivan got to her feet about-face and left the office, a vaguely troubled look on her face, which pretty accurately reflected her mental state. She knew that Captain Rabb had not meant to exercise command influence, but advice from a commanding officer, on how to handle a specific case, came, in her opinion, perilously close to crossing that line. The trouble was, she thought, as she made her way across the bullpen to her own office, that his advice was as sound as it always was. It was just that he was, when all was said and done, her CO…

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Julia finished reading through the draft signal she had prepared for Lieutenant Sullivan's signature and decided that she had covered all her bases. Placing the torn sheet of message pad in her out tray, she laid her pen down on the desk blotter and looked across the room to where Jen was still involved in a marathon round of telephone calls to various local TV stations and newspapers as she attempted to track down any and all stories that might indicate a misuse of SOFA over the past ten years. Julia caught Jen's eye and offered a sympathetic smile at the same time mining taking a drink, and then raised an interrogatory eyebrow. Jen returned the smile nodded her head and mouthed a silent "Please!".

Julia nodded and quit her chair, heading for the galley and the coffee-pot. Jen continue to hold, while she waited for a singularly slow witted young woman with an almost impenetrable East Anglian accent to get back to her with a password for that particular TV station's protected archives.

Sighing with impatience, Jen let her fingernails beat a rapid tattoo on her blotter and then as a shadow fell across her desk she looked up, a smile beginning to appear, expecting to see Julia with the promised cup of coffee. Instead she found herself looking into the dark eyes of a stone-faced Marine Corps First Sergeant, who despite his impassive expression, seemed to have a glint of humour lurking in those selfsame dark eyes.

For some reason, Jen found herself blushing, and hastily covering the mouthpiece of her phone she asked, "How may I help you First Sergeant?"

Victor Galindez gave himself a mental shake, he was a long past the age, he told himself, where he could be distracted by a pretty face and a pair of soft, deep, brown eyes, no matter how soft nor how deep they might seem.

"Thank you, Petty Officer. I would like to speak with Captain Rabb, if possible."

"If you'll wait just a minute, please, First Sergeant, I'll check to see if he can speak with you. Who, shall I tell him wants to speak with him?"

Victor allowed a small smile to play on his lips, "Tell him, First Sergeant Galindez."

Jen nodded and turned towards Harm's office door before the import of what the Marine had just said sunk home. Then, with a gasp of surprise, she spun back towards the visitor, and almost incredulously asked, "Gunny?"

Victor blinked, he was sure that he had never met this particular Petty Officer before, and was intrigued to find that she apparently had some notion of who he was, or rather, of who he had been. "I don't know you, do I?" he asked.

"No… No, we've never met," Jen replied, feeling the blood return to her cheeks, "but I took over from Jason Tiner as Admiral Chegwidden's Yeoman, right up until the Admiral retired, and your name was pretty much legend around Falls Church!"

It was now Victor's turn to feel a rush of blood to his cheeks. This wasn't a sensation to which the normally imperturbable Marine NCO was accustomed, and he offered a silent prayer of thanks that his dark colouring helped to hide his reddened cheeks.

"Thank you, I think, Petty Officer," was about as much as his tongue would cope with for the moment but thankfully that seemed enough under the circumstances, and he was rewarded by a shy smile from Jen as she turned back towards Harm's office door. Her knock brought the invitation for her to enter, and she stepped inside, closing the door behind her.

"Sir," she began tentatively, "there's a Marine Corps First Sergeant to see you. A First Sergeant Galindez. I think he's the famous 'Gunny' from Falls Church, Sir."

"Indeed he is!" Harm said enthusiastically. "I've been expecting him for the last couple of days! Send him right on in please Jennifer… Hey! Just a second, why are you announcing my visitors? Where's Martinez?"

"Oh, she just stepped away from her desk for a few minutes, Sir, I'm sure she'll be back any time now, that is if she's not back already, Sir."

"Well, when she does get back, ask her to produce two mugs of coffee, please, Marine grade!" He finished with a broad grin.

"Aye, aye, Sir!" Jen acknowledged with almost as broad grin of her own, and turning, opened and held the door Victor, saying, "go straight in, First Sergeant," and then stepped gracefully out of Harm's office before almost collapsing into her own chair, where Julia found her when she returned some twenty seconds later still fanning her heated cheeks with an open hand.

Julia placed Jen's mug of coffee on her desk, and asked in a voice of mild concern, "Are you alright?"

"Oh… Sure, yeah, I'm fine…" Jen almost stammered in reply.

"Are you sure? You're looking a bit flustered," Julia persisted.

"Yeah, I am I'm fine, it's just typical but the second you're away from your desk, the captain gets the visitor, and he caught me rather by surprise. But, Captain Rabb did say that as soon as you got back to your desk would you please provide him and his guest with two cups of Marine grade Coffee! But as soon as you get back from doing that I'll tell you everything. I promise!"

"If that's so, why am I getting the impression you're stalling!" Julia grinned.

Jen glared at her tormentor, "it's not me that stalling, it's you, and if I were you I get the Captain that coffee!"

"Okay, okay, I'm gone," Julia laughed, "but you haven't heard the last of this, lady."

Jen shook her head in amused exasperation at the younger woman's cheerful persistence.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

It was nearly thirty minutes later that Victor Galindez left Harm's office. And for the majority of that time, ever since she'd delivered the requested refreshments, Julia had maintained a strict silence. She had also maintained, however, a barrage of looks directed at Jen, which were overflowing with barely concealed amusement. Her amusement was cut short and replaced with surprise, as Harm's office door opened, to show that the Marine Corps NCO, had been walked to that door by Harm.

"Well, that's not something you see everyday!" Julia said to Jen as soon as Harm had closed the door to his office again. "There's has got to be a story behind that!"

Jen let out a most unladylike snort of exasperation, "For God's sakes, Julia, stop fishing! Yes, there is a story; First Sergeant Galindez used to be the admin Gunnery Sergeant at Falls Church. He was there for a few years, before he went back to whatever it was he used to be in the Corps. I know that he, the captain and Colonel Mackenzie shared some pretty hairy adventures in Afghanistan and in South America. I don't know the details, because it's all very much classified and very much need to know. What I do know, but only from reports I've heard, is that Captain Rabb and First Sergeant Galindez are as much friends as it is possible for them to be."

"And the fact that he is a total babe doesn't hurt either, does it, Jen?" And then Julia continued before Jen had a chance to answer, "of course, he is way too old for me, even if I didn't have Johnny, but when a gal as attractive as you gets to be as old…"

"Julia Martinez! Don't even go there!" Jen warned, half-laughing at and half-scolding the now widely grinning Julia.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Harm relaxed back against the squabs, as Julia concentrated on manoeuvring the sedan through the Friday afternoon traffic on the A40, the main road from London to Oxford, and which took them to Northolt. He refrained from speaking for the first fifteen minutes of the journey as she threaded her way through the congested roads, and it wasn't until the density of the traffic eased that he felt it safe to speak with her.

"You and Coates seemed to be in a good mood this afternoon," he observed.

Julia risked a glance across at him in an effort to determine his mood, "Just a bit of banter being tossed back and forwards, Sir. And it is Friday afternoon, what's not to be in a good mood about?"

Harm wriggled his shoulders grinned and nodded understandingly, "Ah, yes, the weekend. I take it that you're bound for darkest Wiltshire again, to meet your soldier."

Julia blushed, "No, Sir… Actually, I'm staying put this weekend, Johnny is coming up from Tidworth, which is just across the county line in Hampshire, Sir."

Harm chuckled, "Next time, Yeoman Two, don't bother running around the houses, just come straight out and tell me I got it wrong."

Julia blushed, even more furiously that she had done before, if that was possible and gasped, "Oh God, I'm sorry, Sir. I was way out of line, and it…."

"Won't happen again?" Harm finished her sentence for her in a lightly ironic voice, but continued before she had a chance to reply, "But it will, won't it Yeoman Two? And I know this, because we've had this identical conversation before, at least once."

Julia bit her tongue, her cheeks still flaming crimson, and finding it hard to read his voice, she risked another sidelong look, trying to ascertain his mood from his expression. "I really am sorry, Sir," she said, "and I will try to do better!"

Harm chuckled again, "As long as you restrict your more insubordinate outbreaks to when there's just the two of us travelling, then there is no real harm done, but don't pull that sort of stunt around the office, okay?"

"Yes, Sir!" Julia replied in a suffocated voice, and lapsed into an abashed silence which lasted until she dropped Harm offered his front door.

Harm stood on his doorstep and watched the Navy sedan until it turned the corner and was lost from sight. He had a faintly troubled frown on his forehead, and he hoped that he had been neither too indulgent nor at the end of their conversation to harsh with the young woman. Still, there had been plenty of little bumps and potholes on the road while he and Jen had forged their understanding, and he supposed that he must expect the same with Julia, the trouble was, he suspected the Julia wasn't quite so resilient is Jen, and wouldn't find it quite so easy to bounce back from reprimands.

However, all that could now wait until Monday morning. For the moment Harm was eagerly anticipating the arrival of Gill, for whom he had booked a room at the only hotel in West Ruislip, less than two miles from the RAF Station's main gate.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Gill had been dubious about the weekend, not about spending it with Harm, but when he had explained to her on Wednesday that the only convenient hotel for Northolt was what her grandmother would have derided as a "bucket shop", she had made some slight noises of demurral, but had allowed herself to be persuaded when he pointed out that there was a reasonable restaurant within walking distance, and just for once it might be nice to be able to have a glass or two of wine with their dinner without having to worry about driving home at the end of the evening.

Harm had then gone to explain his plan for the entire weekend from twenty hundred on Friday until sixteen hundred on Sunday. And now as she braked to a halt in the West Ruislip Premier Inns car park her face relaxed into a smile as she mentally reran that conversation.

"I seem to recall that you... uh… are a bit of a Shakespeare fan, at least as far as the comedies are concerned," he had offered diffidently.

"Why? She had asked slightly suspiciously, "I enjoy reading the plays, and I enjoyed watching quality productions, but I've seen the Bard murdered so many times by provincial repertory groups that I don't go to the theatre very much, well, not any more."

"Um, would you… ah… label the RSC as a provincial repertory group? Because I've managed to get hold of a couple of decent tickets for Much Ado About Nothing, at Stratford for the Saturday evening performance. And I thought it might be something you'd like to do?"

"Oh! God yes! I'd love that! But how on earth did you manage to get hold of tickets for the RSC at such short notice? And more importantly, you won't be bored, will you?"

Harm had chuckled, "No, no I could never be bored while I'm with you, and besides our last CO in DC was engaged to a professor of English who specialised in teaching Shakespeare to College kids, what you'd call university undergrads, and Much Ado, was one of her favourites, and with her talking about it I guess I picked up enough of the underlying themes to appreciate the play for what it is, and I also managed to get a firmer grip on Shakespeare's language. I did go to see a couple of his plays while I was still back in the USA, but it seems very strange to hear Elizabethan English spoken with the Virginia accent!"

"Yes, I suppose that would strike a jarring note or two!" Gill giggled, "But you still haven't said how you managed to get tickets…"

"Hey, a guy' s got to have some secrets," Harm had chuckled, "we can't let you ladies hog all the mysterious secrets of the universe!"

And although she was being eaten alive with curiosity, that is all that Harm would say on the subject, except for when he declaimed in an affected English accent, which almost reduced to Gill to tears of laughter, that "Undomesticated equines will not prevail upon me to disclose my sources."

Once she'd stopped giggling, a further thought occurred to her, "What sort of ideas did you have about the logistics for the weekend?" She had asked.

This was pretty much a question that had been worrying Harm since he first come up with the idea for the tickets. "You…. We…. uh... I thought that it might be better if you didn't stay with me, as a platonic guest of course, but you know what loose tongues are like…so I thought that if I got you a room at the local hotel for Friday and Saturday nights, that we could have dinner Friday evening and then on Saturday I pick up a rental then we drive up to Stratford – it's about an hour and a half, I'm told, spend the afternoon looking around the town. Again, I'm told it's quite a pretty place and even us uneducated Yanks have heard about Anne Hathaway's cottage, then an early dinner, and then back to the hotel for you and home for me. Then a lazy lunch somewhere handy on the Sunday before you have to head back to London. How does that sound?"

Gill had smiled to herself, he was being so careful not to give grounds for scurrilous gossip, that it was quite touching. "That sounds just about perfect, sailor," she said softly.

"Great! Then I'll see you in the lounge at the Premier Inn at twenty hundred on Friday!" He enthused.

This time it was that very enthusiasm in Harm's voice that triggered Gill's smile, "I look forward to it, in the meantime take care, sailor."

"You too, soldier," Harm had smiled and then reluctantly hung up.

But that had been Wednesday, now it was nineteen twenty hours on Friday, which meant that Gill had forty minutes in which to check-in shower and change. She had absolutely no doubt in her mind that Harm would be in the lounge at precisely twenty hundred hours. So climbing out of the car, she opened the boot, slinging her valise over her shoulder, and draping her garment bag over her left forearm while she closed and secured the car.

Despite her misgivings about the type of hotel, Gill was very pleasantly surprised by the speed and smiling efficiency of the check-in, and was then asked if she would like someone to carry her bags up to her room for her, an offer that wasn't always made these days, even in those hotels that gave themselves airs. Gill showered, dried and dressed with some degree of urgency but noted with a satisfied nod of her head that she still had seven minutes in hand by the time she was ready to quit the room.

The lounge was easy to find, all Gill had to do was to follow the sound of cheerful conversation and the occasional clink of glasses, although to her relief she found that the seating area, furnished with functional but brightly coloured armchairs and occasional tables was separated from the bar itself by a short flight of steps leading up to an archway pierced in a balustrade. However, her appreciation of the surroundings was interrupted by a surprised gasp of "Ma'am!"

Startled, Gill spun to face the direction from which the voice had come and in tones nearly as surprised as the ones that had accosted her she gasped in turn, "Bom! What… How… I mean… Oh, I don't really know what I mean, I think. I'm just surprised to see you here."

Johnny Walker grinned uncertainly, "I didn't really expect to see you here, either, ma'am," he confessed, "I've come up to spend the weekend with Julia, you remember her, ma'am?"

Gill smiled, "Yes, of course I remember her. Captain Rabb's driver. So, you and she are definitely getting on alright?"

Johnny smiled shyly, "Yes, ma'am, well, at least I like to think so. I like her a lot, and she seems prepared to put up with my nonsense, so it would be kind of stupid for us not to explore the possibilities. After all, ma'am, you only live once."

"True enough, Bom," Gill conceded, but before she could say more she felt a hand slip around her waist and the welcome sound of Harm's voice in her ear, "Good evening, beautiful." And then as Harm recognised Johnny he grinned good-naturedly, "good evening, Bombardier, no need to ask why you are haunting West Ruislip!"

"No, Sir!" Johnny rapped out.

"Relax, son," Harm urged him, "we are both off-duty, we are both in plain-clothes, and in a civilian environment, I think we can forget the drill field for a while."

Gill leaned in a little closer to Harm, and smiled at Johnny, "I think he means the parade ground," she confided to the British NCO in a stage whisper.

Harm sent a mock glare in her direction, "What is it with females that they think they have to keep correcting me?" He asked Johnny in an aggrieved tone of voice.

Gill craned her neck and squinted up at him, "what other female?" she demanded.

Harm chuckled and daringly gave Gill a gentle squeeze, "my Yeoman/Driver, that's who!" He complained. "She took the wind right out of my sails not more two hours ago!"

Johnny winced and closed his eyes for a second, "I'm sure she didn't mean any offence, Sir, it's just that she can be a little bit outspoken…"

Harm nodded his agreement, "Yeah, I appreciate that, and I've taken it into account."

Gill could almost see the wave of relief that washed over Johnny, "He's not quite the pushover I was, Bom, but he's a pretty okay guy."

"Hey! I am standing right here, you know!" Harm complained.

"Yes, dear," Gill said patronisingly, while Johnny wondered for years afterwards how he managed to keep a straight face at that point. Fortunately he was given an excuse to grin as he spied, over Gill's shoulder, Julia walking across the foyer straight towards the lounge.

"If you'll excuse me, Sir, ma'am, my date has just arrived," and with a courteous dip of his head, he excused himself and set a course to intercept Julia.

He wasn't quite as successful as he might have hoped, because even before they exchanged greetings Julia's eyes opened wide, "Is… I mean isn't that your Captain Shephard…_ and_ Captain Rabb?"

"And a big hello to you too," Johnny teased her.

Julia giggled, "Oh… I'm so sorry, Sweetie! Let me make up for that!" And laying her hands on his shoulders she half rose on her toes and leaning in captured his lips with hers in a firm, gentle and loving kiss, deepening it just slightly, as she gently nipped his lower lip between her small white teeth.

Johnny's hands and risen, almost automatically, to her waist as he returned her kiss with equal fervour, but once the kiss was broken he looked over the top of her head to see both officers grinning broadly. In order to shut out that horrible sight, he drew Julia into a deep hug and buried his face in her freshly shampooed and faintly floral smelling hair, "You are wicked," he scolded her lovingly, "so let's get outta here before your boss gets any more blackmail material!" And with an arm firmly around Julia's waist he led her back across reception to the front door.

Gill and Harm watched them go, smiles on their faces, but once the hotel door had closed behind the couple, Gill half turned towards Harm, "They're nice kids, but I'm glad they've gone…"

Harm smiled down at her, "Me too, because that means I can now do something I've been dreaming about since last Sunday…"

Gill felt her face going pink, and although she had a pretty damn good idea of what Harm meant, she asked shyly, "and what might that be, sailor?"

"Oh, just this…" Harm said as he raised her chin with one long, strong but gentle finger and dropped an equally firm and gentle and loving kiss squarely on her lips.

By the time they broke the kiss, Gill's arms had somehow wound themselves around the back of Harm's neck where her fingers played along his hairline, and with her lips slightly parted and shining eyes she looked up at him, "Have you got any idea of just how vulgar Granny would say we just were?" She asked softly.

"Nope! Not a clue!" Harm replied cheerfully, "But I'll make a deal with you, if you don't tell her, I won't!"

"You've got yourself a deal, sailor!" Gill chuckled.


	22. Chapter 22

**22**

Harm slipped his arm around Gill's waist as they left the Zaza's little Italian restaurant on the corner of the High Street, and allowed himself a huge grin, as she in turn slipped her arm around his waist, and snuggled in as closely as possible, while they were walking.

"Comfortable?" He asked with a smile.

"M'mm," Gill murmured, and turned her head so that Harm could see her answering smile.

They walked on in silence for a few minutes before Gill spoke again, "Do you remember last weekend, when I nearly gave you a heart attack by suggesting we ought to call on my parents?" She said tentatively

"Yes, I remember," Harm said in a carefully non-committal voice.

"Well… I...seem to have… well, mentioned you, on a couple of occasions... actually, more than a couple... and Mummy seems to think that it might be a good idea if you... umm... sort of dropped in for a cup of tea... At some stage... umm... In the not too distant future…"

"At how far in the not too distant future?" Harm asked.

"Uh... I thought that while I'm down around your neck of the woods, we... umm... well, if I called home tomorrow, then we might – but only if you want to – go to mummy and daddy's for tea on Sunday…."

Harm turned to Gill and smiled in what he hoped was a reassuring manner, while he mulled over what she had said, and probably more importantly the implications and ramifications of what she had just said. This wasn't a scenario that he would have even considered playing out back in the States until all parties were satisfied that the relationship was heading somewhere, but he had an idea in the back of his mind that the rules of the game, as it was played in Britain, were somewhat different.

He was silent for so long, that Gill felt her heart sink. She was now afraid that she had probably cast a blight on the whole weekend, and possibly on their joint future.

Harm sneaked another glance at Gill, and was dismayed to see that she now seemed to be concentrating on the paving slabs beneath their feet. With an uneasy feeling that he was to blame for her sudden change in demeanour, he spoke softly, "You know, that's probably not a bad idea… We don't much go in for that sort of thing back home, but when you're living in DC, and her parents live in... oh, Arizona, or Washington State maybe, then visiting her mom and dad is something that takes time and planning. But, I can see that with distances that much less here in Britain, that it is still something that should be done, and in my case I'm so close to your folks' home, that it would look like downright bad manners if I left it too long. Besides which," he grinned, trying to restore some of the good mood that seemed to have dissipated, "I'm pretty keen to meet your granny, she seems to have earned your liveliest respect! So, yes, go ahead, make your call "

Gill let out a breath she hadn't even known she was holding, "Oh, I can assure you that you'll have just as much respect for Granny, as I do. I love her to pieces, but she can be a really formidable grand dame when she wants to be. Just, for the love of God, don't let her see that you're scared of her!"

"Hey! I'm a naval aviator, I am not going to be scared!"

"Harm," Gill giggled, "I've done two tours in Iraq, and at times, Granny doesn't just scare me, she terrifies me!"

Harm thought for a few moments more, "I think I know just what you mean, Grams still runs her farm in Pennsylvania, she also seems to run the town in much the same manner… and she can still make me feel like I'm a naughty nine-year-old at times!"

Gill looked up at him and smiled gratefully, "Exactly… Thanks for understanding," she murmured and tightening her grasp around Harm's waist, she pulled herself in closer, and her smile broadened slightly as she felt the warmth, and the reassurance, as he pulled her even closer in.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

The RAF SP Corporal asked for Harm's ID before he opened the wicket gate next to the Guard Room – the vehicle gates were already closed for the night – and scrupulously checked that the laminates hadn't been interfered with, and that the photograph matched Harm's appearance. Satisfied that all was in order, the Corporal handed harm's ID back to him, stood back and raised his hand in salute, "Thank you sir!"

Harm smiled and nodded in acknowledgement of the salute, "Good night, Corporal."

"Good night, Sir." Corporal Jackson watched the tall American officer disappear into the darkness, heading towards the officers quarters, and shook his head wonderingly, there had barely been a whiff of alcohol about the captain, yet the unexpected warmth of his smile spoke of no mean degree of contentment. Jackson pondered for a few moments, and then the answer came to him, "You old sod, you got lucky! Well, good for you!"

"Tut, tut, talking to yourself Jacko? They'll lock you up for that!"

Jackson had been so absorbed that he failed to notice the approach of Corporal Andrews, his relief, but he made a quick recovery, "No… They only do that when you start answering yourself. Remember, you don't have to be mad to work here…"

"No, but it helps!" Andrews grinned as he completed the old saying, and then drawing a breath, he asked, "Anything to report?"

Jackson reverted to all business, "Yes, Station Commander is off station, some official do in town, he is in his staff car, and has given an ETA of zero one hundred, so that means any time between now, and zero two hundred" he added dryly.

"Anything else?"

"Nope, that's it."

"Okay then Jacko, I've got the weight, and Chalky has got the sprog mashing a brew." He paused, "God, were we ever that bad?"

"Well, I wasn't…" Jackson grinned, as he turned towards the guard room, leaving Andrews shaking his head and grinning wryly. He ought to have known better than to give Jacko that sort of opening.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Despite his late-night, it had been almost twenty to one when he'd let himself in to the house, Harm was up and dressed in a T-shirt, jogging bottoms and sneakers, by zero six fifteen hours, and by twenty past he was using front step of the house as an aid to stretching his legs before setting off on his run. With no flying today, he was able to run the full circuit of the airfield, and because it was a short distance and he had been accustomed to running in DC he concentrated on upping his pace and speed.

He succeeded in his efforts, it was just under forty minutes later that he turned the corner into the street lined with senior officers quarters, each standing in its own plot. Slowing to a walk he used the length of the street as a cooling down stretch, breathing deeply, but without distress as he allowed his body heat to dissipate.

Cooled down, showered and dressed in grey chinos and one of his favourite mid-blue shirts, Harm set about brewing a pot of coffee, before calling the car rental company.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Two miles up the road Gill rolled over in bed and reaching out, slapped her alarm clock into silence. For a few minutes she lay lazily going over the events of the latter part of last night. She smiled, a mixture of pleasure and relief, she recalled how easily Harm had agreed to visiting her parents on Sunday. For sure there had been a few minutes' awkwardness, but the swiftness with which they'd got over that was, in her opinion far more important than the awkwardness itself. Her smile broadened; in retrospect it hadn't really been fair to spring that invitation on him, with so little warning. But, they'd had a wonderful meal, and maybe she had one glass of wine too many, and that had given her a dose of Dutch courage, but would ever be a 'right' time to broach such a potentially difficult subject, especially as she was as keen as her mother to have Harm meet her family.

For years, she'd concentrated on her career, quite content to limit her love life to short-term, light-hearted flirtations that both parties knew from the outset were going nowhere, and were able to move on without regret. Well, without many regrets. But for some reason, and almost from first sight she had felt attracted to Harm, she tried to fight that attraction, her denials had been aimed as much at herself as they had been at Sue Marshal, but Bombardier Walker's medal parade had been her undoing, the surge of sympathy she had felt that the awkward position in which Sue had put Harm, had led to her agreeing to that first dinner date, where the attraction she had felt during the firepower demonstration was renewed and reinforced.

If Harm hadn't called then, even at that stage of the game, she would have been able to shrug her shoulders and dismiss the interlude as fitting into her pattern. But, he had sent those marvellous yellow roses, and he had called, however, and the very next day. She found herself smiling in surprise at his promptness, and then agreeing to a 'proper' date. And, apart from his cluelessness in taking the tube into town it had been a marvellous date, and she found herself holding her breath almost until he'd called again, and the Sunday lunch date... well, if that hadn't been evidence of keenness on his part, then Gill didn't know what was. Of course, such an example of his attraction to her had played its part in increasing her attraction to him, how could it not? she asked herself, and smiled, of course, the two kisses last night, the one at the beginning of the evening and the other as he wished her a good night in the hotel lobby, despite the grins of the two receptionists, hadn't hurt.

But the hands on the clock face inexorably moving towards the hour nudged her out of bed and into the bathroom, from which she emerged half an hour later and dressed ready for breakfast. A hasty glance at her watch told her she was just about going to be on time to meet Harm for breakfast as they'd arranged last night.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Harm got to his feet as Gill walked into the lobby, his face creasing in a smile both of welcome and of pleasure. In deference to the weather, Gill had chosen a just-below-the-knee-length cream coloured summer dress, with a slight décolletage and a halter neck that left her back and shoulders bare, and in case of need, over one arm, she carried a tan, lightweight linen jacket that co-ordinated not only with her dress but also with the strappy sandals on her feet and the purse that hung from her shoulder.

Gill too smiled as she spotted Harm. An observer would have been hard put to say who approached whom, but within a couple of seconds they were almost toe to toe and again it would have been difficult to say who kissed whom, the kiss didn't last long, and was soft and tender rather than passionate, and as Harm and Gill broke the kiss they both smiled and simultaneously said, "Good morning."

It was as simple greeting, but one that laid to rest the butterflies that had been swarming in the pit of Harm's stomach. After his hesitation in excepting Gill's invitation last night he had worried that he may somehow have failed a test and that Gill would retreat from their growing intimacy. To his great relief, the kiss and the very simple nature of her greeting stilled his qualms.

Gill smiled up at him, a twinkle in her eye, "Are you just going to stand there staring at me all morning, or were you thinking of allowing me to have breakfast?"

Harm gave a little start, he hadn't realised he'd been staring quite so much, and a slightly shamefaced grin, complemented by a faint reddening, replaced his smile. "Whoops, my bad! But it's partly your fault, what do you expect me to do, when you're so beautiful?"

It was Gill's turn to blush, but mostly from pleasure, "So, I don't clean up too bad?"

Harm leaned in to whisper in her ear, "You are totally beautiful," he assured her and grinned even more widely as her blush intensified.

"If you've quite finished turning me into a traffic light, can we please go get something to eat?" Gill asked in mock indignation.

"Oh, well, if you're hungry, why didn't you say so?" Harm asked innocently.

The best reply Gill could come up with was a frustrated "Ooh!"

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Johnny pulled up outside the address Julia had given him, he had followed directions exactly but he still checked the door number against the details Julia had scribbled on a scrap of paper. Nodding in satisfaction he climbed out of the car and walked up the paving stone path and rang the doorbell.

He waited a couple of seconds until the door opened and he found himself the object of scrutiny of a pair of curious blue eyes. "Hi," said the rather stocky blonde girl who had answered the door, "Can I help you?"

"Yeah, I'm calling for Julia Martinez, Johnny answered, with far more assurance that he actually felt.

The blonde nodded, "Oh, you must be Johnny!" She half-turned and yelled over her shoulder," Hey, Jules! Your soldier's here! She's still upstairs, fussing with her make-up, I reckon, you'd best come on in and wait."

"Thanks," Johnny grinned as the blonde opened a door leading off the hall.

"I'm Patty, take a seat," she invited him, "Oh, cute accent you got there."

Johnny was far too taken aback to formulate an answer and just stood with his mouth hanging open, as Patty dropped him an outrageous wink. "Go on, take a seat, you're making the place look even untidier than it already is," and whisked out of the room.

Johnny sat and looked around. He had to agree with Patty, the place was a mess. Glossy magazines strewn almost every surface, and what once had been a pile of them next to one of the armchairs had slipped and strewn itself in a cascade across the carpet. A stack of old newspapers was on the hearth, and a couple of empty glasses were surrounded by overlapping ring marks on the coffee table. His NCO's eye also detected a noticeable layer of dust on the over mantle, and the suspicion of a cobweb in one corner where the wall met the ceiling. He felt a flash of irritation, even as an NCO the accommodation provided him by the army was an eight foot by eleven foot single bunk which contained a bed, a bedside table, a locker and a metal frame plywood seat and back chair. The four girls, including Julia, who lived here had the whole house, fully furnished, including kitchen and bathroom, yet seemed content to live in what he considered a state of squalor, one that if it were soldiers' accommodation, wouldn't be tolerated for a minute in Three Eight.

Fortunately for his state of mind he didn't have long to wait before Julia opened the door and walked in. Johnny sprang to his feet and crossed the room towards her, scooping her up into his arms and planting a firm, loving kiss on her lips. Julia gasped slightly, and opened to him, letting their tongues engaged in the age-old dance.

Only the need to breathe forced them to break the kiss, and Julia looked up at Johnny with shining eyes, and softly said "Wow."

"And good morning to you, too," Johnny grinned, "and, yeah, wow!"

Julia's brow furrowed a slight frown, true, Johnny had a smile on its face, but there was something in his voice that made her suspect he wasn't as happy as he was trying to appear.

But before she could speak, Johnny cupped her face with a gentle hand and used his thumb to caress her cheek, "You about ready to blow this joint?" he asked softly

"Ready when you are," Julia replied, "where have you got in mind?"

Johnny's grin took a wicked edge, "Well, if you've got a camera…." And what American in the UK doesn't have a camera? he asked himself, "we could drive down to Richmond Park, and see if we can get close enough to the deer for you to take a couple of decent shots."

Julia stood back and gazed questioningly up at Johnny, "I don't remember telling you that I was into photography," she said.

"You didn't, but on a couple of occasions I've seen photographic wallets in your handbag," he smiled.

"Well, ten out of ten for observation, Mister Walker. Give me a minute and I'll get my case." Julia gave Johnny a brilliant smile and whisked out of the room.

"Case?" Johnny asked himself, and wondered just how big a can of worms he had accidentally opened.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Gill allowed herself to sit back and enjoy the ride. The first few miles she had been tense, unsure of Harm's driving skills in what was for him still a new environment. However, a very short time had been enough to assuage her qualms and she was able to relax and appreciate how quickly and completely the former fighter pilot next to her seemed to become one with the machine.

With the speedometer needle nudging the seventy mph mark, Harm kept the Mondeo in the left hand lane of the motorway, only moving out to the centre lane when he needed to overtake slower vehicles, and immediately moving back in to the nearside lane as soon as the manoeuvre was complete. After he had made the move some half a dozen times, Gill looked across at him," Most people aren't quite so scrupulous about staying in the inside lane," she observed.

Harm glanced at her in mild surprise, "I've been reading up on the Highway Code, isn't that what I'm supposed to do?"

"Yes, it is," Gill replied, "but people get into bad habits, and on weekdays the inside lane is quite often nose to tail with HGVs, and car drivers get used to driving in the middle lane."

"But that's no excuse for not sticking to the code," Harm said severely.

"No, dear," Gill said soothingly, and smiled.

Harm shot her a suspicious look, but decided he was going to leave that little piece of bait dangling in the water.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

"Oh, what are you doing?" Julia squeaked as Johnny indicated left, and pulled up in front of a long, low building, but to Julia looked pretty much like a truck stop.

"Breakfast," Johnny said succinctly.

"But… but didn't you have breakfast at the hotel?" Julia wondered.

Johnny grinned in a slightly embarrassed fashion as he switched off the ignition, "I... umm... was going to, but when I got to the restaurant, your CO and Captain Shephard were already there, and I didn't feel like sitting in solitary splendour while they were having their breakfast together."

Julia waited until they had both climbed out of the car, then smiled and shook her head indulgently, "Captain Rabb wouldn't have minded, and from what I've seen of your Captain Shephard, she wouldn't have minded either."

Johnny nodded his head, "Probably not, but I wouldn't have felt right." he said as he opened the café door for her.

Julia shook her head again, "I don't understand that, but if you wouldn't have felt okay then I guess I can accept that."

Johnny smiled, and spotting a clean table in the corner he nodded in that direction, and then with his hand in the small of Julia's back, he walked over to the table, and on arrival, drew out her chair for her.

Their arrival had been noted, and Johnny had barely taken his seat when the waitress, a plump motherly looking woman in her 40s came to take their order.

Johnny grinned up at her, "Scrambled eggs, toast, bacon, black pudding and tomato, please."

Julia almost stared at him in surprise, "Umm... Just a toasted bacon sandwich, please."

"Anything to drink, dear?" She asked Johnny.

Johnny looked across the Julia, "OJ and coffee?" He checked with her.

Julia nodded and the waitress adding the drinks to the order, smiled and headed back to the server in.

Julia spent a silent thirty seconds tracing the pattern on the gingham oil oilcloth table covering before she somewhat nervously cleared her throat and looked up at Johnny. "You've been a little bit off all morning," she observed, "is it something to do with having to miss breakfast because the officers were there?"

Johnny managed a shame-faced half-smile, "Damn, I thought I'd managed to hide that pretty well," he drew a deep breath, "Yeah, that's part of it…" He left the end of the sentence hanging as he sought for a tactful way of continuing.

"Go on," Julia encouraged him softly, "if there's something wrong, then I want to know."

Johnny dropped his eyes, "it's a bit tricky…and I don't want to offend, upset or embarrass you," he muttered.

Julia opened her eyes wide in surprise, "if it's bothering you that much, then I do need to hear it, and I'll promise I'll try not to be offended, insulted, upset or embarrassed."

"Well…" Johnny started uneasily, "it was that blonde girl, the one who answer the door, Patty was it?"

Julia nodded, already she had an idea where this was going, "Yes, Patty."

"Yeah, well, she knew I was there to call for you, and I swear we weren't alone for more than a minute before she called you, but honest to God, she was coming on to me!" Johnny said indignantly.

Julia winced, "Ah... Maybe I should have warned you about that. She broke up with her boyfriend a few weeks ago, and she's been making a play for practically anything in pants. I think it's her way of proving to herself that she still attractive. I don't think she meant anything by it."

"Still made me feel uncomfortable," Johnny grumbled.

Julia had to fight down a giggle, poor Johnny looked so looked so down, that it was, from her point of view pretty funny. "And is that what's been bugging you?"

"Yeah, well, that and a touch of jealousy."

Julia jerked upright in total surprise, "Jealousy?" she repeated, "I don't understand…"

Johnny raised his eyes with difficulty and stared across the table, "It's the house, and I know it's stupid, but blokes like me are crammed in to a single, small room. But there's what, three, four of you sharing that house, and the living room was a…"

"You don't have to tell me about that!" Julia exclaimed almost savagely. "When I first moved in there, about eight, nine months ago, I used to pick up, wash up, put things away until I realised that I was the only one doing it. Then when I mentioned it to the others and suggested that perhaps they might like to do their fair share, they just kind of shrugged their shoulders and said 'whatever', so I stopped using the lounge, and I stopped picking up after them. I keep my room clean and tidy; if I cook, or make coffee, I do enough for myself, and I clear up after myself. But I am not going to be their damned unpaid housemaid!"

Johnny regarded her levelly, and nodded, "Bloody right, if they aren't prepared to pull their weight, why the hell should you skivvy for them?"

"Oh, I know, but I hate living in a mess, and quite honestly, I'm dreading the day we get told to stand by our beds for inspection!"

The arrival of the waitress bearing a tray loaded with their breakfast orders put a temporary stop to their conversation, and then Johnny's wholehearted concentration on cleaning his plate put a longer stop to their talk, especially as Julia sat and watched in amazement at the speed Johnny cleared his plate. It was only when he had finished that he caught Julia's expression.

"What?" He asked in puzzlement.

Julia shook her head indulgently, "Johnny, you must have hollow legs!" she grinned.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Harm carried Gill's glass of dry white wine, and his own pint of bitter carefully through the scrum at the bar to the table she had seen the second they'd walked into through the door, and to which she had made a beeline through the crowd, assisted by sharp elbow nudges, and the repetition of a sweetly determined, "Excuse me, please."

"Okay, you were right," Harm admitted as he slid onto the bench next to her, "we shouldn't have taken that extra turn around the park, and we should come in as soon as they open the doors."

Gill took a sip from her wine, "Oh, I know that," she smiled smugly, "but never mind at least we've got time for this one drink before the curtain!"

Harm threw up a hand in the manner of a fencer acknowledging a hit, "Touché!" He admitted, while thinking privately that at the prices they charge in the theatre bar, he was just as happy at only having the one drink. "But apart from having to fight your way through the herd, have you enjoyed the day?"

"Lord, yes!" Gill practically giggled, "I don't know when I've had quite so much fun watching anybody play the tourist the way you did today. The boot of that car is filled with the most meretricious tat, that I have ever seen!"

"Oh, it's not that bad," Harm defended his purchases with an air of injured dignity.

Gill took another sip of her drink, and cocked an eyebrow at him, "For a start, anything you need to say is 'not that bad' very probably is! And secondly, just how many of those horrible, plastic Anne Hathaway Cottage money boxes did you buy?"

"Only the four," Harm said defensively, "one each for AJ, Jimmy, and the twins. If I'd bought something for one of them, without buying exactly the same for the others, I'd be condemning Bud and Harriet to months, if not years of sibling jealousy and squabbles!"

Gill shook her head, "Alright, I'll let the money boxes pass, but a whole box of coffee mugs, printed with a portrait of Shakespeare, with the message 'A Present from Stratford-upon-Avon' inscribed around the bottom. Harm, there are twenty-four mugs in that box!"

"Yeah, and most of them are for presents too… I can hardly buy the Roberts kids presents, without buying something for Bud and Harriet, and then there's Mom, and Frank, and Grams, and Julia…"

"Julia?" Gill queried.

"Yes, Julia, my Yeoman cum Driver, she's putting a hell of a lot of extra hours why been reading myself in, and cheerfully undertaken driving duties, even at weekends, where that's nowhere in the criteria for her rate. It's just a… mark of appreciation. Regulations prohibit the giving of gifts between officers and enlisted, and flowers or chocolate are just too… Personal, I guess. But a coffee mug, especially one that is such meretricious tat," he grinned as he turned Gill's own words back on her, "is pretty well unexceptional."

Gill smiled in appreciation of Harm's rebuttal, and sighed, "I should have known better than to try and argue with a lawyer," she said ruefully, "but even with all those names you've just pulled out of your magic hat, that's still nowhere near the whole box full!"

"Ah-ha, but you can never have too many coffee mugs," Harm finished triumphantly, and took a self satisfied swallow of his beer. Quite happy that Gill hadn't seen the gift-wrapped copy of the "Riverside Shakespeare" edition of the complete works of the Stratford upon Avon Bard, and which he intended to make a present of to Gill, at the end of the weekend.

"Now, apart from my buying habits, was there anything else that met with madam's disapproval," Harm asked.

"No, the drive was pleasant, we were lucky to find a parking spot near the centre, and lunch was superb," Gill mused blandly.

Harm gave her a shrewd look over the rim of his glass, the lunch she had just enthused over, had been a sandwich, an ice cream and a glass of soda.

Gill caught his glance, and chuckled, "Okay, lunch was lunch, but on top of breakfast, and with an early supper ahead it was fine. And the supper, was very, very good."

Harm nodded as Gill stopped her tease, she was right, supper had been good, and was the result of about three hours searching the Internet and on the phone to make reservations for this evening, and to ensure that the menu would suit both their tastes. He was pleased, more than pleased, both with the outcome of his efforts, and the pleasure and enjoyment Gill had taken in what was quite a simple, but very well cooked and well presented meal.

"So, not too disappointed with the day?" he grinned.

"It could have been a wet Wednesday afternoon in Rotherham," Gill smiled, "but as long as I spent it with you it would still have been a perfect day." and with a smile, she leaned in and kissed him gently on the cheek.

Harm felt at a total loss as to how to respond to Gill's declaration, but fortunately for his composure the bell sounded the ten minute warning for the curtain, and obliged them both to finish their drinks and, with Harm acting as a shield for Gill, they joined the throng heading for the various doors leading into the auditorium.

Harm had seen other productions of Much Ado About Nothing, but within minutes of the opening curtain, he realised that this production was likely to be totally dissimilar to anything he had seen previously. Other productions he had seen had had horses hoof sound effects to herald the arrival of the messenger bringing news of the battle, but on this occasion the courier arrived on stage on a vintage motorcycle, and dressed in a vaguely nineteen thirties military uniform.

Harm took a sideways look at Gill whose shining-eyed and slightly open lips bore witness to her single-minded concentration on the events on stage, and he sat back, happy in the knowledge that he had pleased her, and now fully prepared to enjoy the play.


	23. Chapter 23

**23**

Julia smiled as she pressed the cameras shutter release button one more time. "That is probably the shot of the day!" she declared as the Fallow deer buck which had stood obligingly still took fright at something and bounded back into the shelter of the trees.

Johnny grinned, even if he did say so himself, bringing Julia to Richmond Park had been a stroke of genius. Well, alright it had been a fluke, when he'd suggested she might want to bring a camera, he had in mind the simple sort of point and shoot camera that most tourists carried, small enough to be slipped into a pocket, not the metal case with the deep foam lining, into which several cut-outs had been made, housing two cameras, that even Johnny recognised as being top of the range, almost professional quality, as well as a selection of lenses, what looked like a skeleton rifle butt, and a telescopic support stand, which Julia called a monopod.

When they arrived at the park, Julia had opened the case and after a squint at the sky had fitted the second longest lens to one of the cameras, as well as the rifle butt and the monopod. Now that she was suitably armed, she gave the okay for Johnny to cruise the park looking for deer.

To her surprise, she found there were two species of the animal in the park, Red Deer, and Fallow Deer, and was immediately full of questions, which stretched Johnny's somewhat sketchy knowledge to the limit. He was able to tell her that there were about seven hundred deer in the park, that the Red Deer held the equivalent eco-niche as the North American Elk and like that animal was solid coloured, and the males, stags or harts, had spiked antlers. The smaller Fallow Deer had white-spotted chestnut coats and the bucks had palmate, or flat antlers, "a bit like a moose, but much, much smaller." Then he grinned wickedly, "But that's typical of you Yanks isn't it, everything has got to be bigger!"

Julia's head whipped around so she could look him in the eye, as she grinned in her turn, "Not just bigger, soldier, but better too!"

Johnny was taken aback by Julia's riposte, and was left speechless for the moment, his mouth slightly open as he searched for a suitable reply. Julia took in his expression and laughed, "Did you want to play some more?" she enquired with a deceptively innocent smile.

Johnny wasn't about to get stung again quite so soon, and shook his head, "No, no thank you. I'll be good," he said with a rueful grin.

"I thought you might," Julia murmured as she turned her attention back to deer and camera.

By the time they both felt the pangs of hunger, Johnny reckoned that Julia had reloaded her camera with film three times. "How many shots have you taken today, then?" he asked as she broke down her rig.

"That's four rolls of film, at thirty-six exposures nominally but I can generally get thirty-seven, so just about one hundred and fifty…"

Johnny whistled softly, "That's likely to cost you a small fortune to get developed!"

Julia shook her head, "No, it won't. When I get the film processed, I'll just get a contact print and decide from that how many shots I'll get enlarged, probably no more than three frames per roll of film," she explained.

Johnny formulated his next question very carefully, he knew next to nothing about photography, and it was pretty apparent that not only did Julia have an extensive knowledge, but she was also very enthusiastic about the subject. "Uh... You... umm... haven't considered switching to digital photography, then?"

"Oh yes, the other camera is a digital camera, but I haven't had it very long, and I'm still getting used to it. So for something like today, where the light was just about perfect for a longer lens, and I'm never going to get the deer to adopt the same poses again, I'd rather stick with a film camera, and know that I will have a better chance of getting it right!"

Johnny nodded, it made sense, if the conditions were unlikely to be repeated, then sticking with equipment and a method over which you had comfortable mastery made more sense than playing around with something new. And talking of which... "Here we are, this is the place I was looking for… The New Inn." He looked at Julia's doubtful expression and grinned, "I know it doesn't look much, but the food here is pretty damn good!"

Julia's expression cleared as if by magic, "Oh, well, if _you're_ recommending the food it must be good!" she said playfully.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Johnny and Julia had lingered over their meal, their conversation interrupted by bites of their food, and gentle smiles exchanged between them. As a result, it was after dusk when Johnny braked to a halt outside the house that Julia shared.

Julia sighed, unbuckled her seatbelt, and stretched, "That was a great day, Johnny, thank you so, so much. I don't think I've ever even heard of Richmond Park, and it's so close… Incredible to think that almost in the heart of London you've got wild animals roaming around…"

Johnny smiled, delighted to see and hear Julia's unaffected pleasure, "Well, I enjoyed watching you enjoy it!" And then unseen in the dark, his eyes took on mischievous gleam, "on a scale of one to ten of your favourite things to photograph, where do animals come?"

"H'mm... that depends on the cuteness factor… right at the top of the list are babies, followed by kittens and puppies, then other animals. The cuter, the better."

"Oh, so... you wouldn't be happy taking photographs of, say, lions, tigers, rhinos, hippos, giraffes and other exotic beasties?"

Julia sighed wistfully, "If they were in their natural habitat, and not behind zoo bars I'd jump at the chance, but there is no way I could ever afford to go on a photographic safari."

"No, I suppose not," Johnny sympathised, "it would bankrupt me too. Still… We might find something worth taking a frame or two of tomorrow, have you got any more film?"

Julia frowned at him suspiciously, "I've got a cool-box half full of film, but, you're up to something aren't you?"

"What, me?" Johnny replied with a guileless expression on his face.

"Yes, you!" Julia said in mock accusation.

"The only thing I'm up to, is this!" Johnny leaned over and with a gentle finger he raised Julia's face towards his, and captured her lips in a firm and loving kiss, which apart from its own benefits, had the added advantage, from Johnny's point of view, of silencing Julia's interrogation.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Harm smiled as he took the slip road onto the M40 motorway, Gill had chatted happily about the evening, the play, the unexpected nature of the production, and the players. In reply to Harm's comment that he hadn't recognised any of them she had allowed herself a chuckle that verged on a full-blown laugh.

"How many times have you been to the theatre, since you landed in the UK?" she asked.

"That was the first time," Harm said.

"And from what you've said in the past, you don't have much time for television, do you?"

Harm shook his head, "No not much, most of it seems to be designed to kill off brain cells one by one."

"Well then, if you don't watch British TV, and you don't go to British theatres, and you've never said anything about going to the cinema here, how on earth would you expect to recognise British actors?"

"Good point, counsellor," he teased gently, "and from that, am I to assume that you did recognise the players?"

"Not all of them, well at least, not all by name. I vaguely recognised the girl who was playing Hero, she was a child actress, on TV, a few years ago in some sort of costume drama. Oh, and the chap who played Dogberry, is quite a well-known face; he played a rough, tough Roman soldier in a TV miniseries a couple of years back. And of course, Benedick and Beatrice are very well known, from TV and film, as is the actor who played Leonato; some years back he played the lead male role in a long-running TV sitcom. I could, if I wanted to, tell you about the other actors. But I think I'll just give you the programme, and let you research them. and I warn you, there will be a quiz next week!"

"Yes, ma'am!" Harm had grinned in reply.

But that had been while Harm had been threading the Mondeo through what seemed to him to be the labyrinth that was Stratford's idea of a road system, and then once clear of the town, on the two-lane black-top leading to the motorway, and by the time he'd reached the interchange, Gill's head had slumped back against the headrest, and a swift glance out of the corner of his eye had shown her eyes were closed and she was breathing gently.

Harm reached out, and switched off the car radio, which he had tuned to a BBC station, one that mixed older music with interviews with guest artists, and regular news and traffic updates.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

It was just over the hour after joining the motorway that Harm eased the Mondeo to a halt in the Premier Inn car park just up the road from RAF Northolt. Gill, who had dozed peacefully, lulled by the quiet engine note opened her eyes as Harm turned the key in the ignition, killing the motor.

Gill blinked, and smiled sleepily at Harm, but only then realised where she was "Oh, God! I'm so sorry Harm! I must seem like the most ungrateful witch in the world. You've looked after me so well, all day, all evening, and I really, really enjoyed the play, and then to pay you back, I fall asleep the second we hit the road!"

Even in the artificial glow of the car park lights Harm could see the blood rush to Gill's cheeks. He smiled easily, "Don't worry about it, not even for one second. It's actually quite flattering that you felt so safe and secure with me, that you allowed yourself to drop off like that."

Gill shook her head and gave an embarrassed little laugh, "But it's so bad mannered of me, Mummy would read me the riot act, if she found out, and Granny would probably send me supperless to bed for a week at least. And Daddy would probably use me as an object lesson in next Sunday's sermon!"

Harm shook his head slightly, "Really, Gill, I am not at all offended. As I said I feel quite flattered. But I'll make you a deal, similar to our last one…"

"And what was that? Remind me," Gill said cautiously.

"Simple, if you don't tell your family, then I won't!" Harm said triumphantly.

This time Gill's laughter was open and honest, "I've heard about you tricky lawyers, but this time, you've got a deal! And to seal it," Gill unfastened her seat belt and leaned across to kiss Harm.

There was something slightly different about the quality of this kiss that set it apart from the other kisses they had shared, and praying he hadn't misread the signs, Harm gently probed Gill's lips with his tongue.

Gill immediately broke the kiss and pulled back, only a matter of an inch or two, and before Harm could give voice to the apology on the tip of his tongue, she said "Only if you mean it, Harm."

Harm looked at her seriously, "I mean it," he said simply and quietly.

Gill nodded and leaned in again, and this time there was no hesitation, and no room for doubt, as her lips opened under his.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Jen would have had her world-view seriously dislocated if she had been privileged enough to see, or hear Harm as he showered the following morning. Convinced as she was that he was not a morning person, and this was not a snap judgement, but a verdict reached after ten months of sharing guardianship of Mattie, in the two apartments a couple of blocks north of Union Station in DC, she would have been severely discombobulated.

This morning however, Harm had bounded out of bed, into his running kit, and had hit the airfield perimeter track, and according to his watch knocked nearly two minutes off his previous best time. But even that evidence of his improving physical fitness didn't explain the cheerful tenor that filled the steamy bathroom as he showered and sang away the evidence of his exertions.

He emerged showered and shaved from the bathroom and threw open the doors of his bedroom closet, or wardrobe as he had learned they were called in Britain, and as he contemplated its contents, his smile, fuelled by memories of yesterday evening, slowly faded. His first choice in paying what was, after all a ceremonial visit, would be to wear a suit. But he had a feeling that a suit would be overkill. The problem was that he didn't have much choice between his suits, and the jeans and T-shirts that he wore for lounging about the house or quick trips to the store. Eventually, and not without some misgivings, he settled for a light blue denim cotton shirt, and a pair of tan chinos, last year's birthday present from Mattie, and which he rarely wore as their colour was too close for his liking to his uniform peanut butters.

The question of some sort of jacket was slightly more problematical, in an ideal world a dark, but lightweight jacket would have been his first choice, but his only dark jackets, lightweight or otherwise, were his uniform dress blues. So it was with an element of doubt in his mind that he selected a single breasted, two button jacket in unbleached linen, shrugging into it he checked his reflection in the three-quarter length mirror on the inside of the wardrobe door and with another shrug, this time of resignation, he slipped the jacket off and laid it across his forearm, transferring his wallet and a clean handkerchief to its pockets before he headed for the stairs and the kitchen.

Even in the short a few minutes it took to brew a half pot of coffee and slipped two slices of bread into the toaster, the smile was back on his face as he once again recalled last night's very tender goodnight from Gill.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Johnny was also awake early, and was just about as cheerful as Harm. Although in his case his pleasure was the result of a mixture of memories from yesterday and anticipation of the surprise that he had just arranged for Julia's benefit, and which he hoped she would enjoy. As far as he was concerned, there were better ways to spend the day, but if his plan brought pleasure to Julia, then he was more than just content to make sure that she enjoyed the day.

So, having consumed an early and hearty breakfast, washed down with about a pint of coffee, Johnny brought his Astra to a stop at the kerbside outside Julia's house, and started to climb out of the driver's seat in order to summon Julia. However, he aborted that idea, as before he was even half out of his seat, Julia, her camera case in hand and clad in jeans and a lavender button down shirt stepped through the door, and started down the path towards the roadside.

Julia opened the passenger side door, and reaching over the seats placed her camera case on the rear seat, before leaving further in to greet Johnny with an enthusiastic good morning kiss.

"Okay….Not that I'm complaining, but that was quite a performance for a good morning, how are you, sort of kiss."

Julia giggled and surreptitiously jerked a thumb back towards the direction of the house, "Well, apart from the fact that it's lovely to see you again so soon, and," she cast a highly appreciative eye at the way Johnny's white T-shirt moulded itself to his chest and stomach muscles, "that you will persist in looking almost good enough to eat, it's also a way of reminding Patty, who's very probably hiding behind the drapes, that you're spoken for!"

"Spoken for, hey? I kind of like the sound of that," Johnny grinned.

Julia blushed slightly, she hadn't meant to sound quite so possessive, but on reflection, she, like Johnny, kinda liked the idea of them both being spoken for.

To cover her slightly heightened colour, she slipped into the passenger seat and made a great pretence of fastening her seatbelt. "So, where are we off to today?"

"You know that photographic safari that neither of us can afford?"

"Yes?" Julia replied and questioned in the one word.

"Well, that's where we're going!" Johnny said triumphantly.

"But... How... I mean... what, where... and... Oh, I don't think I know what I mean..." Julia confessed with a chuckle.

"Longleat Safari Park," Johnny explained, "it's about half an hour the other side of Larkhill, where the firepower demo was, remember?"

"So… about two hours, then?" Julia asked, a smile just twitching the corners of her mouth.

"About that," Johnny agreed as he engaged first gear and let the Astra pull away from the kerbside.

Julia giggled, she couldn't resist it, "Or about three hours, if we have to stop to let you get some breakfast…"

"Not today, Julia Martinez, I was up betimes, and breakfasted in solitary splendour! Not a single officer in view to spoil me appetite!"

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

it was just twenty past eleven when Gill stepped out of the elevator and into the hotel lobby, where Harm had been idly browsing through one of the Sunday papers, while keeping an eye on the elevator at the same time. As soon as he caught sight of Gill, he tossed the paper onto the coffee table in front of him and jumped to his feet, crossing the lobby in half a dozen swift strides, to reach out and take both her hands in his while greeting her with a soft kiss.

"And a very good morning to you too!" Gill smiled.

"Well, I... um... I always sort of thought... That... umm... actions speak louder than words... I suppose," Harm mumbled, aware that the tips, at least, of his ears were beginning to glow crimson.

Gill smiled up at him "Oh, they do, they do indeed, and I've always reckoned that you were a man of action! But, you know, words do have a place in the scheme of things!"

Harm felt his heart give a little lurch, as he wondered if this was Gill's tactful way of saying they should have one of 'those' conversations, but he smiled as he agreed "Yes, yes they do. For instance the kiss may have said 'good morning', but it doesn't tell you that I think you look fantastic this morning!"

Gill laughed lightly, "Escape and evasion? Do they teach that during pilot training? But, merci du compliment, M'sieur!" And truthfully she was pleased with the compliment. Unknown to Harm, the blue, daisy print, cap-sleeved and a square necked summer dress she wore was brand-new, and this was the first time she had worn it in public, and more especially for him.

Harm smiled in reply to Gill's laughter, "Not escape and evasion, but more a case of being rendered speechless by you."

Gill laughed again, "Flatterer!" She accused while she tucked her hand into his arm as he walked out through the hotel doors "and one of these days, flattery might just get you somewhere, but I most strongly advise you not to try it with Granny!"

"I wouldn't dream of it," Harm averred, "from what you told me about her, I'm terrified already!"

"Fibber, I strongly doubt whether you've ever been terrified of anybody in your whole life!" Gill smiled as he opened the Mondeo's door for her.

Harm just smiled in return as he waited for her to settle in the passenger seat before he closed the door and hurried around the front of the vehicle to the driver's side. 'Oh Gill, you have no idea!' he thought.

However, he was able to return a smiling reply to Gill's "So, where are we off to?"

"I thought we could go back to that pub at Sandford, so you can tell me more about the ducks and geese! And, like you said, it's only about twenty miles from your folks' place."

Gill nodded, "Makes sense," she agreed "it's virtually en route, you know how to get there, and… You seem to enjoy the food and the shandy." She finished with a grin.

Harm grinned and acknowledged her sally with a fencer's, "Touché!" But under his relaxed façade his mind was racing. Last night, Gill had asked if he if he meant what the deeper kiss implied. Yes, he did mean it, he'd been attracted to the younger Englishwoman almost before he first set eyes on her, he had fought against that attraction, and lost. Now he was beginning to hope cautiously that he hadn't entirely missed his chance at life. But as always, there were complications. There was his history with Mac, whatever it had been, might have been, might have possibly become, and its abrupt termination, just when he had finally been able to open up to her and lay his heart at her feet. Then, there was Mattie. She had been one of Mac's most devoted advocates, repeatedly urging Harm to let down his walls, and let her in. The trouble was that even as he had started to demolish his walls Mac drew back. He could somewhat sympathise with her self-doubt after her medical condition had been diagnosed, but then at Christmas after she lost the argument with the tree, it had appeared for a short while that she was finally going to close the gap only to once more at the last moment withdraw. Then there had come… he still wasn't quite sure what to call it… the Vukovic episode? And she had appeared so wrapped up in the younger man, that it seemed she barely listened to Harm when he'd tried to call her about Mattie's terrible accident.

Then all the confusion, the doubts and the misunderstandings had appeared to melt away in the aftermath of their new orders. He had at last broken through his final defensive line and said those three little words that Mac had apparently been so desperate to hear for so long, only to have them thrown back in his face. That had not only devastated him but also deeply affected Mattie, he could only hope now, in the light of her words on the Roberts' porch that she was willing for him to invite another woman into his life. If not, then life was going to be a little trickier than usual for a while, even by his standards. But he was not about to allow the teenager, no matter how much he loved her, to dictate when and whether he had an adult relationship

Now he was sitting in a car with that woman en route to a landmark in their relationship, to meet her family, hard on the heels of the hint she had dropped at the hotel, that in the light of the small but significant step they had taken in their physical relationship, it was time for one of 'those' talks. The walls he had been at such pains to tear down for Mac's sake, had rebuilt themselves, and the thought of opening up to that extent again, making himself that vulnerable again, terrified him.

Gill and sat back and relaxed against the squabs content to stay silent while Harm wound his way through Ickenham and onto the A40, but now that they were moving along the open road she looked across at Harm and saw that his face was set in a, to her, unfamiliar mask of concentration.

Misunderstanding his concern, Gill said tentatively, "Harm… If you don't want to visit the family, I understand, and I can make a call and just say something's come up and we can't make it today…"

Harm glanced at her in honest surprise, "No, no it.. it's nothing like that. I'll admit it was a bit of a shock when you mentioned it, but now I am... well, I'm actually looking forward to it!"

"Are you sure?" Gill asked, "because when I called and spoke to Mummy she was quite looking forward to meeting you too!"

Harm flashed her one of his one hundred megawatt smiles, and Gill once again felt her insides melting as he asked, "And this is a good thing, why?"

Although perhaps not quite the answer for which Gill had hoped, in some strange way it did reassure her, "Because in the days when I used to bring boyfriends home, back in my salad days, when I was at university, Mummy's invariable reaction was along the lines of 'Oh, dear. Must you bring this wretched young man home with you?' And then at the earliest possibility after the visit, she'd say something along the lines of 'are you bringing him home again?', with the strongest possible suggestion in her tone of voice that she wouldn't be too pleased to see whoever it was, ever again."

"Wow, I know you said your mom was a benevolent tyrant, but if I had known that, I think I've taken out for the high mountains and the tall timber!" Harm grinned in reply.

Gill felt a surge of relief that Harm had emerged from the depths of his introspection, and smiled sweetly, "Oh I don't think you've got anything to fear on that front, after all, Mummy is hardly likely to describe you as wretched".

Harm almost smiled in agreement and then his brain caught up with his ears, "Ouch!" He said, still wearing his grin, "but not at all as young, huh?"

Gill put on the most innocent face she could muster, and looked straight ahead through the windscreen, "I never said that," she replied innocently.

Harm shot her a wryly amused, sideways look, "No, you didn't. And I noticed just how very carefully you didn't say that!"

Gill let her shoulders slump exaggeratedly, "You got me," she confessed.

Harm decided that it was time for a little payback, "Yes, I did," he asserted, but then in a much more tender voice he added, "But you got me, too."

Gill gasped in surprise, and almost gave herself whip lash as she turned her head to face him. She saw on his face the most tender expression she had yet seen, and not a single element of teasing or mockery. Almost stunned into silence, she managed a smile that she hoped was equally as tender, and relaxed back into her seat, but reached over and dropped her right hand on his left knee.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Lunch had been a leisurely affair, preceded and followed by a stroll from the car park along the riverbank, but this time with their arms looped around each other's waist. The food had been as good as it had been on their previous visit, and Harm had remembered when ordering their shandies to make Gill's a half pint.

Harm had made an effort not to allow himself to become distracted by the ramifications of his current situation, and had managed to keep the conversation light and inconsequential, Gill had responded in a like manner, and as a result the afternoon had passed pleasantly enough, but Harm had resolved that the time for 'that' conversation was fast approaching, and Gill despite her outward cheerfulness seemed to sense that Harm had something on his mind, but like Harm she was determined not to let any further worries or concerns intrude on a beautiful summer Sunday afternoon, as a result they returned to the car in a tranquil mood.

The journey from the car park to the village of Dinton, where Gill's father was the Church of England, to Harm that meant Episcopalian, Vicar took just under thirty minutes, thanks in no small measure to Gill's familiarity with the roads and her ability to navigate, allowing the driver enough time to react to her instructions. Such ability had not always been present in Harm's past experience, and as he decelerated in preparation for another right hand turn across the oncoming traffic, he asked "Have you ever done any rallying?"

"No, why?" Gill asked.

"There's not many who give navigational instructions in time for the driver to react, without having to overreact."

Gill shrugged, "it's just common sense," she said, "Now careful, crossroads ahead, you need to turn right, and then pull over and stop in about fifty metres."

Harm did as instructed, pulling in behind a small, white, Volvo. Gill pointed to the right, to where a breast high stone wall sat about twenty yards back from the roadside, pierced by a lych-gate, and behind which sat a mellow, almost honey-coloured square towered church.

"Daddy's place of business," Gill smiled, "The parish church of Saints Peter and Paul at Dinton." And although there was a hint of mocking irreverence in her voice, much more apparent were the overtones of pride and affection.

Harm nodded, "it looks wonderful, I'd love to be able to look around at some stage."

Gill looked at him, to try to ascertain whether he meant what he said, or if he was just being polite. She decided after a few seconds study that he meant his words. "Well, if you don't mind staying for a couple of hours, Daddy will be opening up the church again at about eighteen-thirty hours for Evensong, and I know he'd be only too pleased to show you around. But, if you are ready, Saint George?"

"Saint George?" Harm queried.

"Of course," Gill giggled, "after all, you're about to meet the Dragons!"

"Damn, now you have got me shaking in my boots!" Harm complained as he opened Gill's door

"Oh, yes, of course I do, dear" Gill quipped as she extended a hand for Harm to help her out to the car.

"This way," Gill nodded towards the flagstone path that led to the lych-gate, "Good afternoon, Mrs Summers!" she called to an elderly lady who had come to the door of her cottage in front of which Harm had parked the Mondeo. The old lady smiled benevolently, nodded and raised a hand in greeting.

"Quick!" Gill hissed urgently and grabbed Harm's elbow, almost pushing him in the direction of the church, "If she catches us it'll take half an hour for us to work our way clear!"

"That bad?" Harm asked in some alarm.

"You wouldn't believe it," Gill replied as she opened the gate leading into the churchyard. "This way," she urged as she nodded in the direction of another gateway set in the left hand wall.

That gate opened almost at her touch, and Harm found himself in a well-maintained garden, the lawn neatly manicured, and serving as a background to four or five flower beds ablaze with summer flowers, while the northern wall of the garden supported a trellis up which climbed, in a medley of colours, several varieties of flowering vine.

However, Harm only had time to gain a fleeting impression, as Gill turned him towards the flagstone patio in front of a pair of open French Windows. The patio was furnished with a pair of rustic benches flanking the French Windows, and a less intimidating picnic table and four brightly coloured, folding, wooden framed, canvas deck chair. Two of the deck chairs were occupied by an elderly gentleman, somewhere between Chaplain Turner and Admiral Chegwidden in age, dressed in dark slacks, a grey shirt with a clerical collar, and a slightly younger woman in a floral print summer dress, who stood as she saw them enter the garden.

A third chair, a folding, canvas elbow chair was the seat of a distinguished looking elderly, grey-haired lady, who was evidently the source of the DNA which had granted those same, large, brown eyes to Gill. Elderly she might be, her face covered with a network of fine lines, bearing testimony to her years. But there was nothing old in her expression, in her eyes or in her voice, as she lifted her head. "Gill! You've kept us waiting on enough, the tea's going cold! Now, is this the young man you've trotted out in the hope of gaining our approval?"

Harm winced at the acerbic tone in the old lady's voice, but Gill nearly broke into a laugh, and bent to bestow a gentle kiss on the old lady's cheek "Granny, you are a wicked old woman. Stop trying to scare him off, you keep moaning at me that I'm turning out an old maid, but you've frightened off every eligible bachelor for fifty miles around! And as for the tea going cold…" Gill cast a shrewd look at the tray sitting on the table, "the teapot hasn't got its cosy on, so don't even try to pretend that the brew has been mashed – I'll bet the kettle hasn't even been put on to boil yet!"

"No respect for the elderly, that's the trouble with youth today, and where did you pick up that horrible expression!"

"Now, Granny, why would you want me to respect you, when you've got my love? And as for that quote horrible expression unquote, if you mean about the brew being mashed…"

"Yes! That's the one! I'll wager you got it from that scapegrace brother of yours!"

"Absolutely correct, Granny, but he got it from you!"

"That's enough, Gill," the Reverend Shephard instructed his wayward daughter in mock reproof as he pulled himself out of his deckchair. "Please show a little respect to your grandmother, otherwise I'll have a whole week of having my mistakes in bringing you up trotted out!" But even as he spoke he dropped a broad wink to both his mother and his daughter.

"And you must be Captain Rabb?" Gill's father turned his attention to Harm.

"Yes, Sir," Harm replied, adding the honorific automatically.

"There, Gill," the Reverend said to his broadly grinning daughter, "that's how to show proper respect!"

"Yes, Daddy," his entirely unrepentant and unabashed daughter replied.

Pretending for the moment to ignore Gill's reply, the Reverend turned back to Harm, "It's a long time, since anybody called me 'Sir', and I've probably forgotten how to respond to it, so you'd best call me Jack, the same as everyone else does. And this is my wife, Alice, and, you've probably deduced that the head of the family, sitting over there is my mother."

Harm gulped, feeling slightly overwhelmed by his surroundings, and, on the part of Gill's father, his immediate acceptance. However, there was a calculating, measuring expression in Alice Shephard's eyes, and he had already, albeit indirectly, experienced the acerbic tongue of Gill's grandmother. Nevertheless he smiled, and grasped the hand the Reverend and extended towards him, "Gill has told me quite a bit about her family, and I am very happy to make your acquaintance."

The Reverend grinned, and cocked a knowing eye at Harm under a quizzical eyebrow, "No, are you? Well, we'll see!".

Harm relaxed he detected that underlying the Reverend's words was the sense that he was being gently teased, and that for some reason the Reverend Shephard was inclined to like him on sight.

His thoughts were disturbed, as Gill's grandmother raised her voice. "It's no use him standing all the way over there like a lamp post. Bring him to me girl, so I can get a proper look at him!" she directed her granddaughter.

Gill held out her hand to Harm as he stepped forward, "Granny, I'd like you to meet my friend, Captain Harmon Rabb. Harm, may introduce you to my grandmother, Anne Shephard."

Harm stepped forward, "Gill has told me a lot about you, ma'am, and I am very pleased to meet you."

Anne Shephard stared at him shrewdly, "Well, he's tall enough, he's polite enough, but he's old for a Captain – come up through the ranks, did he?"


	24. Chapter 24

**24**

The Reverend Jack Shephard and his wife both looked as if they wished the ground would open up and swallow them, Gill on the other hand gave a shout of laughter, and protesting cry of "Granny!"

Harm let a slow smile cross his face, "Why, no, ma'am. I did it the hard way, through the US Naval Academy, at Annapolis."

Granny looked up at him piercingly, "And I suppose you think that a soft answer turn away wrath?"

Harm thought he now had the measure of his opponent, "Ma'am I wouldn't presume to hazard a guess as to how such a formidable lady as you might react under any circumstances. I can only hope that she doesn't pitch too many beaners and that I'm agile enough to dodge the ones that she does!"

"I didn't understand half of what you just said, but I strongly suspect that you meant it as flattery. But I'll have you know, young man, that despite what ever the effect your honeyed words might have on that pea-goose of a granddaughter of mine, they are likely to stand you in very little stead when it comes to me!"

"Indeed not, ma'am. Your very much like my own grandmother, far too wise to be taken in by idle flattery."

"H'mm... You have a grandmother, do you?"

"Yes, ma'am and you remind me of her – a lot!"

Gill's grandmother relaxed back in her chair, "I do, do I?" she challenged in a slightly less acerbic accent.

"Yes, ma'am, in a lot of ways, for a start she likes to pretend she is a holy terror but in her case she does it by hurtling around country roads in an open-topped Jeep, which as far as she is concerned only has two speeds, flank – that is full ahead both – and finish with engines, and believes that it is the duty of all other road users to get out of her way at all times! And I'm getting a very strong impression from you ma'am, that in your approach to life, you're pretty much the same. And just like Grams, you've got a heart of gold underneath your prickly exterior."

Granny snorted indignantly, "And I suppose you think that makes you pretty smart?"

Harm smiled again, "Why, yes, ma'am. After all, you wouldn't want your granddaughter dating a duma... uh...numskull, would you?"

Granny Shephard gave a crack of laughter as she correctly interpreted his hastily bowdlerised words, "No, no I wouldn't," she agreed. But then sinking back into pettiness, she complained, squinting up at him, "Instead of giving me a Crick in the neck, grab a chair, and come and sit down next to me. So, you are in the Navy. And you are a Captain, what ship?"

Harm drew one of the two vacant deckchairs closer to Granny, and gingerly lowered himself into it, not entirely convinced that it would support his weight. "No ship," he said almost regretfully, "I'm the Force Judge Advocate General, for the US Navy in Europe, and the Mediterranean." He glanced at his elderly interlocutor, and seeing the slightly puzzled expression on her face, went on to explain,"that means I'm the man in charge of all our naval legal services in Europe and the Mediterranean."

Granny looked at him critically, "if you came up through your Navy's Academy, I must assume you are a career officer. And somehow, I don't see career officers making military law as the first choice of a career," she challenged him.

"No, ma'am, when I graduated from Annapolis I went to flight school qualified as a naval aviator, equivalent to your Fleet Air Arm, I moved on to being an attorney a few years later…"

"A strange step to take after all that flying training?" Granny asked.

"It must look that way, ma'am," Harm agreed. He then took a deep breath, "it came about thisaway…"

Gill and her mother had retreated to the kitchen to put the kettle on to boil while they kept a cautious eye on the goings-on on the patio. Seeing Harm draw a chair nearer to Granny's, while the Reverend Jack, picking up his half-read Sunday newspaper, relaxed back in his chair and tipped the brim of his Panama to shade his eyes, Gill turned to her mother, and with a weak smile said, "That's a relief, at least she hasn't gone on the warpath!"

Alice Shephard looked quizzically at her daughter, "Did you really think she would?"

Gill shook her head, "Obviously, I hoped she wouldn't, but you know Granny, if she gets a bee in her bonnet, there's no telling what she'll come out with!"

"Is this Harm – and what a peculiar name – is he really important to you, Gill?"

Gill wrapped her hand in a tea towel before picking up the steaming, copper, old-fashioned and heavy, kettle, before adding boiling water to the already pre-warmed tea pot. She bit her bottom lip lightly, before she turned to answer the question. "Yes, Mummy, he's really important to me; it's very early days yet, and I think we've both got a lot of issues to work through, but I have a feeling, that with all else being equal, he might be the one."

"Well, if he is the one, don't let even Granny's disapproval put you off. I haven't exchanged more than a couple of words with him, but I think I like him already. And he is rather gorgeous... now... if I were only twenty years younger..." she finished dreamily, but with a sly sideways glance at her daughter.

She was not disappointed, Gill rose to the bait like a starving trout to a fly, "Mummy!" she gasped.

So it was a chuckling Alice and a slightly flustered Gill who bore the teapot and a platter of fresh-cut sandwiches out onto the patio just in time to hear Granny Shephard exclaim in tones of horrified surprise, "Crop dusting!?"

The return of mother and daughter brought a temporary end to Harm's somewhat whimsical recounting of his past history, he had brushed over his years of partnership with Mac, having brusquely summed her up as a 'A marine I worked with for a time' and had just embarked on an explanation of how Mattie Grace came into his life.

Harm's explanation to Gill's family, as they drank their tea and ate thinly sliced egg or cucumber sandwiches, as to how he and Mattie came into each other's lives filled in a lot of the gaps he'd left in the tale as he'd first told it to Gill, led as he was by Granny Shephard's shrewd questions until the lowering sun flared of his watch face as he reached once more for his tea-cup.

With a sense of shock he realised that he'd been talking, interrupted by intelligent questions from all four of his listeners, for well over an hour, "I'm sorry… I've been babbling on, and you are all too polite to tell me to shut up!"

Jack Shephard grinned lazily, "Well, I was just about to interrupt you, if only to make my excuses before I left. I have to go and open the church and get it ready for Evensong. I'm afraid the days are long past when a church could be left open and unattended twenty-four hours a day."

Harm replaced his cup and saucer on the table, "if you don't mind, Sir, I'd like to come with you. I said to Gill when we arrived that I'd be glad an opportunity to look round the inside of the church. You'll appreciate that we don't have churches quite as old as the ones you have here in England."

"Of course, all are welcome in God's house, even if they are only sightseeing," the Reverend replied with a wholly reprehensible gleam in his eye, "but I'm afraid I shall be too busy to point out the finer details." He paused, and eyed Harm calculatingly, "You could, of course bring Gill with you, she knows the church almost as well as I do!"

Gill cast her father an indignant look, she had been planning to use the time that Harm spent in the church in interrogating her mother and her grandmother as to their opinion of him. But in the face of her father's endorsement there wasn't much else she could do other than muster up a smile, turn to Harm, and ask, "Would you like that?"

Harm who had not missed the glare at Gill had sent her father, replied, "if it's alright with you, sure, I'd love it."

Gill who had seized eagerly on Harm's get-out clause was about to reply with a graceful excuse about being needed to help with the clear up, but didn't have a chance, as Granny joined in the fray, "Yes, you get along and show Harmon the fine points of the church, and don't forget the font! Go on, get off with you. Your mother and I can deal with these few bits and pieces!"

Gill, totally out-gunned now, sent a helpless look at Harm, "Of course then, I'll be glad to show you round while daddy's busy!"

Harm deliberately dawdled as he followed Jack through the churchyard to the vestry door, taking hold of Gill's hand in his, forcing her to amend her pace. In a quiet undertone, he said with a chuckle, "they got you over a barrel there!"

Gill, in no doubt as to what he was referring, was also compelled to chuckle quietly, "Oh Lord, yes, rolled up completely, horse, foot and guns!"

Anne and Alice Shephard watched the trio disappear through the gate leading to the churchyard and then turned to look at each other. "Well, girl, all this isn't going to clean itself up," Granny said in severe tones as she looked at the remnants of afternoon tea.

"No, it never has and it never will!" Alice replied as she rose from her deck chair, and started stacking cups and saucers on the tray. Granny rose easily from her own chair, and piled tea plates on top of each other and then on to the serving plates which had held the sandwiches.

Sharing the load between them, the two women carried it in silence back into the Rectory, through the lounge and into the kitchen, where side-by-side they engaged in washing and drying the crockery. Halfway through the task Alice turned to her mother-in-law, "And what's your opinion?"

"I like him," Gill's grandmother answered, "he's sensible, polite, and most of all, he seems to make a Gillian happy... I can see only one fly in the ointment, and that is unfortunately he's in the American Navy."

Alice looked sharply at her mother-in-law, "And is that such a disadvantage?"

"Not if you're happy with the prospect of him whisking your only daughter out of the country when his posting here is finished."

Gill's mother rested her hands on the edge of the kitchen sink for a moment and bit her lip in much the same manner Gill did, "No, that's not a prospect to which I'd look forward, but if they love each other, and it's still very early days, Mother, and it may not come to anything, but if it does lead on to something permanent, then I would just have to bite the bullet, and so would you and Jack. Because I doubt that any of us would want our own selfish desires to trump Gill's happiness, would we?"

Anne Shephard glared wordlessly at her daughter in law for few seconds, "Of course not!" she snapped, "I may be old, self-centred, a bully and a bit of a tyrant, but I would never, never do anything or say anything that would interfere with Gillian's future happiness."

Alice dried her hands on a tea-towel, and drew Granny into a warm, comforting hug. "Oh, Mother, you may like to think that you terrorise us, but we all know that really you're just a great big softy, and both Jack and I know that one of the most important things in your life is Gillian's happiness. And although this... romance, as I suppose we must call it, is very new, if it makes Gill happy, if Harmon makes Gill happy, then all we can do really is give them our blessing."

Granny nodded, "Yes, we'll have to do that. Now, not a word of this to Gillian do you hear?"

"Yes, Mother. I hear you," Alice Shephard replied.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Julia turned to Johnny with shining eyes, as the Astra finally rolled through the Safari Park gates back onto the public roads. "That was totally unreal, I've never seen so many animals in one spot, and so many of them just allowed to wander around in those huge enclosures. And in some ways it was so weird, seeing zebra grazing peacefully alongside Bactrian camels, or those Indian deer – chital, weren't they? – wandering around and mixing with giraffes and rhinos. Thank you, thank you so much, not just for today, Johnny, but for the whole weekend!"

Johnny hadn't really expected to enjoy the day, but Julia's enjoyment and excitement and her sheer pleasure in being able to photograph exotic animals had communicated itself to him, and it was almost with regret that he had to tell her that it was time to leave the park if he was to get her home at a reasonable hour, "Especially, if you want feeding," he grinned at her, "it's been a long time since breakfast, and that sandwich and a bottle of water at lunchtime seems almost as long ago."

Julia had the grace to look somewhat shamefaced, Johnny had been quite prepared to buy them both lunch, but she had looked at the restaurant prices and vetoed the idea on the spot. Johnny's attempt at persuading her to have something to eat only achieved limited success; a pair of sandwiches and a large bottle of water between them was as much as Julia would accept, and Johnny, wincing at the asking price for even that modest snack had reluctantly agreed with her. But that didn't now prevent his stomach from thinking that his throat had been cut!

"So, what were you thinking of for dinner?" Julia asked.

Johnny grinned," How about a steak and a jacket potato at The George?" he suggested.

"The George!" Julia echoed, "How far is that from here?"

Johnny did a quick mental calculation, he figured they'd done about ten miles since leaving the Safari Park, "About twenty miles, but don't worry it's on the direct route back to London, so we won't be going out of our way."

Julia seemed satisfied with this, and settled back in her seat to watch the countryside as Johnny took the A36 South East to join the A303. It was only a few minutes later that Julia saw the triliths of Stonehenge, and then just a few minutes later they came to the roundabout where the road for Amesbury and Salisbury branched off the main London Road. Two faint vertical creases appeared between her eyebrows, as she tried to form a mental map of the area.

Before she had puzzled out her mental image Johnny had steered the Astra off the dual carriageway and into Thruxton village, the gravel crunching under his wheels as he turned in to the Georges car park.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Jack Shephard's confidence in his daughter as a guide to the church was not misplaced, although Gill asserted that it was Harm's shrewd questions that forced her to remember long ago and half forgotten memories. However, despite Harm's interest in the ancient building, dating back to the thirteenth century, so Gill proudly told him, by the time they'd spent forty minutes wandering around the nave and the side chapel, the congregation had begun to file in and take the pews the evening service.

Gill stopped her potted history of the baptismal font, which was considerably older than the rest of the church, pre-dating the Norman invasion to a time when the Anglo-Saxon Kings of Wessex ruled the area, and raising an eyebrow, asked Harm, "Do you want to stay for the service?"

Harm grinned uneasily, "Not really, my interest in the church is architectural, not religious, and secondly I need to get you fed and safely on your way back to Saint John's Wood… Unless your father would feel insulted in some way?"

Gill smiled and shook her head, "No, Daddy will be fine, although he would be hurt if we just slipped away…"

Harm nodded, "Of course we must say goodbye, it would be the worst bad manners if we didn't, and I want to thank him as well for letting me stroll around the church."

Gill smiled again, "Follow me, then." And crossing to a side door knocked on the age-old timbers.

"Come in!" Jack Shephard called.

"Only if you're decent!" Gill replied with a grin, but opened the door nevertheless. "Daddy, just to let you know that we are making a move now, and Harm's here to say thank you for letting him maraud around the premises!"

"Think nothing of it my boy," Jack said over Gill's shoulder as she stepped to one side to allow Harm to make his farewells.

"But I think very much of it, Sir. I really do appreciate you giving me the opportunity to have a wander around, and I'd like to add how very privileged I feel to have met you and your family."

"Well, I think it's very brave of you to beard the whole clan in their den," the Reverend Jack replied, offering Harm his hand, while continuing "you just make sure that this daughter of mine brings you back to see us again, soon. And maybe next time, you'll allow us the pleasure of a longer visit!"

"I'll certainly try, on both counts Sir," Harm replied taking the offered hand in a firm grip.

"Yes, you do that, but in the meantime drive safely." And with a smile and a dip of his head Gill's father gently dismissed them both.

Harm and Gill made their way back across the churchyard, and in to the garden and from there through the still open French windows and into the lounge, where Alice and Anne were seated in armchairs. Granny put down her Good Housekeeping magazine, while Alice raised her eyes from the church flowers account book.

"Just to let you know, that we'll be off, now. We've said our goodbyes to Daddy, so there's nothing more really to keep us!" Gill said with a chuckle.

Both women rose to their feet, "Not so fast, young lady," Granny scolded her, "if you think you're getting out of here without a goodbye kiss then you are sadly mistaken!"

Gill's laughter rang out, delighted with the success of her teasing, "I wouldn't dream of it, Granny!" she said as she took the old lady in a fond hug, and planted a gentle kiss on her lined cheek, before turning to her mother to treat her in a like manner.

Granny blinked twice, to clear her suddenly misted vision, before she turned to look at Harm, "As for you, young man, if you take care of my grand daughter, and continue to make her as happy as she is today, then I will look forward to seeing you at any time in the future."

Greatly daring in view of the basilisk like look that Granny transfixed him with, Harm slid his arm around Gill's waist and drew her in for a gentle one-armed hug. "Ma'am, as I fully intend to keep Gill in a permanent state of happiness, I'm afraid it won't be too long before you're heartily sick of the sight of me!"

Granny nodded approvingly, "Well said, Captain. My Captain Jack would have liked you!"

Granny's words was still ringing in his ears, as he walked Gill back to the Mondeo. But it wasn't until they were both seated and their seat belts safely buckled that Gill turned towards him, and blew out a long sigh, "Well! You certainly made a hit there! Granny has just bestowed on you the highest praise that she can, saying that Granddad would have liked you!"

Harm paused just as she was about to turn the key in the ignition, "So your dad was named after his dad?"

Gill looked puzzled for instant and then her expression cleared, "Lord, no, it's just that the way we spell our name is slightly unusual, and back in the 18th century, there was a notorious highwayman, Jack Shephard, who amongst his other exploits before he was hanged managed to escape from Newgate goal no less than four times. Since then, Jack has become a traditional nickname for the men in our family, even my brother gets called Jack!"

Harm grinned, "Am I the only one who sees any irony in a priest being named after an infamous criminal?"

Gill laughed, "I suppose not, but we are so used to it in the family that we never really give it any thought at all."

Harm looked across the width of the car at her, "No, I don't suppose you do," he said with yet another smile and turned the key, firing up the engine.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

As their meal progressed Johnny became aware that something was troubling Julia. He speared the last piece of his steak on his fork, but instead of carrying it to his mouth he let it lie on his plate, and said, "Are you going to tell me what's bugging you?"

Instead of a direct answer, Julia replied with a question of her own, "Andover is pretty near here isn't it?"

"Yeah, a few miles down the road, why?" Johnny answered.

"Well, you're only a couple of miles from your base, it seems silly for you to drive me all the way back to West Ruislip, when you can just drive me to Andover rail-road station, and I could take the train back to London."

Johnny's eyes nearly popped out of his head, "You have got to be joking!" he expostulated.

"No," Julia said in a reasonable voice, "it makes sense, why waste all that gas, and time when there's a perfectly good rail service."

"Forget it. It's not going to happen," Johnny said flatly.

"But…" Julia started to object but was cut off before she really got started.

Johnny reached out across the table and covered one of Julia's hands with his own. "First off, it's a Sunday, it's just about twenty hundred hours, and I doubt there's a train from Andover to London tonight. Secondly, even if there was a train, there is no way on God's earth that I would let you travel into London, at night, on your own, and carrying an obviously expensive equipment case. That would be asking for you to get mugged, and yes, I know you're a rough, tough Yankee matelot, but that's not going to help you if some arsewipe pulls a pistol or even a knife on you, or, as is usual there's more than one of them. Julia, I care about you far, far too much to let you run that sort of risk, even if you do think yourself as an independent woman who doesn't need a man to look after her. Don't they teach you about risk avoidance in the US Navy?"

Julia listened in silence to Johnny's little rant, but fastened on one little phrase, "You care for me? You really care for me?" she asked in a small voice.

Johnny looked at her in stunned amazement for a long, long moment, "Of course I care for you, almost from before I met you, just from talking to you on the phone, you have become the most important thing in my life!"

Julia hasn't been quite sure what sort of answer she had been expecting, she hadn't thought before she asked her question, she had just reacted. But if there was one thing she was now certain of, it was that she hadn't expected such a blunt declaration from Johnny.

She smiled, albeit mistily as her eyes pricked, "And you really think that it would be too dangerous for me to travel back by train?"

Johnny nodded vigorously, "Damn right I do. It's not just the travel on the train, once you get into Waterloo, you have to get clear across London all on your own, and then find a bus or a tube out to West Ruislip, and then walk, again on your own, from the tube station to the house. London and the suburbs, are not smalltown USA. So, let's have no more talk about you wandering around London on your own, especially at night. Julia, if I let you catch the train back to London, and something happened to you, I would never forgive myself."

Julia delved into her pocket and produced a small travel pack of Kleenex and dabbed at her eyes, "Okay, no more talk of train rides," she agreed with a watery smile.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

"Did you want to stop somewhere on the way, or do you want to have dinner at the hotel?" Harm asked after they'd been on the road for about ten minutes.

"Oh, the hotel, I think," Gill answered after a second or two. She smiled at Harm, "It's been a pretty long day, I just want to get back have a light dinner, perhaps just a bar snack, then drive back into London, grab a shower and hit the hay."

"Your wish is my command, O Mistress," Harm grinned easily.

"I wish," Gill murmured ruefully, and just too quietly for Harm to hear over the engine note.

"Say something?" Harm asked.

"No, nothing," Gill said, crossing her fingers against the fib.

Harm said nothing, but gave a quick look sideways at her, not quite believing her denial.

For her part, Gill determined not to disgrace herself a second night in a row by falling asleep while Harm drove. "So, how did Saint George fare this afternoon?"

Harm chuckled, "Never before in my life, have I been quite so grateful for courtroom honed cut and thrust. Your Granny certainly didn't pull that first punch, she rocked me right back on my heels, and nearly knocked any thoughts clear out of my head!"

"Well, nobody would have thought it, you came right back at her and that crack about doing it the hard way, coming up through the Academy, very nearly took the wind right out of her sails," Gill offered comfortingly.

"It's alright for you to say that," Harm said ruefully, "but I was quaking in my shoes!"

Gill chuckled, "To see you, nobody would have thought so, and it's a good job that Granny didn't pick up on that, otherwise she would have got her own confidence back, and really given you a hard time!"

"If that wasn't giving me a hard time, then God help me if she ever decides to do just that!" Harm said emphatically.

Gill reached across and patted him comfortingly on the knee, "Don't worry, Harm, you made a better than good impression on her, and it wouldn't surprise me to find out that over the next few days she'll have been bragging about her granddaughter's perfect new boyfriend."

"Boyfriend, huh? Is that what I am?" Harm asked.

Although it was now too dark for Gill to be able to easily read Harm's expression, she had no doubt that his teasing smile was firmly in place, she placidly smoothed her skirt down over her knees, and said calmly "Of course, or did you think that I was in the habit of going round and kissing non-boyfriends the way I kissed you last night?"

"No, I didn't think that, I was just hoping that last night wasn't a one-off! Or was it?"

"Now that, you'll just have to wait and see." Gill smiled.

The atmosphere in the car now was still happy and relaxed but just slightly tinged with nervous anticipation, and it seemed to Harm that the nearer they got to their destination, the more that anticipation increased.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Thanks to the light Sunday evening traffic they made good time from Dinton back to West Ruislip, and found they still had plenty of time order a bar meal before the kitchen closed for the evening. Harm ordered a king prawn salad, while Gill contented herself with what Harm would have called an egg salad submarine with fries, but which Gill pointed out was properly called an egg salad baguette with chips. "Fries, are those limp, stringy, pale and undercooked strips of reconstituted potato, that those unwise enough to patronise them are served in so-called fast food joints. Chips on the other hand, like these, are cut from the potato, and as you can see they are considerably thicker and wider than fries. And of course, being British, they are far, far superior." she concluded with a wide grin as Harm, who had unwisely chosen that instant to take a mouthful of beer, tried to laugh at the same time, with predictably unfortunate results.

Decorum and dignity restored, Harm and Gill settled down to their meal in companionable silence, their eyes meeting over the table from time to time and each such encounter producing tender smiles.

There snack finished, Gill sighed regretfully, "As much as I don't want to, I'm going to have to call an end to what really has been a marvellous weekend. But I have got to get back to the Wood; for one thing, I need to sort out something to wear for tomorrow; I won't have time to faff about in the morning, as I need to put some credit for my Oyster card."

As much as Harm wished Gill could stay longer, he reluctantly admitted to himself that she had good enough reason to leave. Having paid for their meal when they ordered it at the bar, all that was left them to do was to finish their drinks.

Gill stood "You'll call me? Soon?" she asked almost plaintively.

"Tomorrow evening, at the very latest, and without fail," Harm promised. "In the meantime, I'll walk you to your car."

Nothing loath, Gill smiled her agreement, and with a sense of satisfaction, she felt Harm's strong arm slide about her waist, and in a reflex action she let her head droop sideways and rest against his shoulder.

The car park, as is usual, was only dimly lit, and Harm ignoring Gill's squeak of surprise, sidestepped into a pool of shadow under one of the horse-chestnut trees that lined the edges of the car park, and swept her into his arms, a gentle finger raising her face to his as he searched her barely seen features for any sign that she was unwilling, before his lips covered hers, as she let out a breathy little sigh and opened to him.

The need for air cause them to break off the kiss, but for the next ten minutes or so they stood under the shelter of the tree, wrapped in each other's arms, exchanging tender little kisses which soon developed the habit of becoming deeper and more passionate.

At last, Gill stepped back, her eyes shining and her lips swollen, "Oh God," she said shakily and breathlessly but with a smile, "I haven't had an outdoor make out session like that, since I was about nineteen. Thank the good Lord, there was no one from the regiment to see me – us!"

Harm grinned almost as shakily, "Drum you out of the regiment would they?"

"Definitely!" Gill said as she recovered her composure, "break my sword over the drum major's knee, knock my headdress off, cut off all my buttons, rip off my badges of rank and then a swift boot to my rump as they literally kick me out the barracks gates, and all to the tune of The Rogues' March, and in front of the whole regiment!"

Harm blinked, "They really do all that?" He asked in astonishment.

Gill smiled, "They used to, but they are a bit more civilised these days… They stopped using the boot in the rump!"

There was something in the quality of Gill's voice, something that Harm had heard before, and he realised that once again he had fallen prey to Gill's teasing sense of humour."Oh very funny, and just for that…" He turned on his heel and spun away heading for the Mondeo.

Gill's face fell, "Oh, no! Harm, I was only pulling your leg…" she said in distress.

"I know, and I fell for it, but this time, my girl, you are going to pay!"

"What… what do you mean?" Gill asked in some trepidation as she saw him return towards her, his hands behind his back obviously concealing something.

"It's pretty difficult thinking up a non-judicial punishment on the spot but I think in this case I have made the punishment fit the crime. It is the sentence of this court, that you take this 'Present from Stratford-upon-Avon' in to work with you and display it prominently upon your desk, and from tomorrow onwards you use it exclusively to drink your morning coffee and afternoon tea!" And with a grin for which Gill could find no polite description, he gravely presented her with one of the mugs that he had acquired in Stratford, and to which she had taken such exception.

"Damn you, Harmon Rabb, you nearly gave me a heart attack! And look at it, it's hideous!" She protested laughingly.

"Yes, it is," Harm agreed affably, "and that's what what makes it a particularly suitable punishment present! But, I hope you won't think this is hideous too…" he added with a discernible note of nervousness in his voice as he brought his other hand behind his back and presented a gift wrapped package to Gill. "This one, you can keep in your bunk, and I hope that each time you open it it will bring you fresh pleasure."

It was a rare occasion when Gill Shephard was totally lost for words, but this was one of them. And it was a good thirty seconds before she could gather sufficient wits to reply, and then it was only the one hesitant word, "Harm?"

"It's nothing to worry about," he said urgently, "it's a Riverside Shakespeare, you said your old collected works was falling apart, and I saw this in the gift shop and I thought you'd enjoy it."

"Oh, Harm…" And she raised on her toes, and encumbered as she was with mug and package, she managed to twine her arms around his neck and give him a last kiss for the evening.


	25. Chapter 25

**A/N: **I am indebted to VisualIDentificationZeta for the breakroom/broom closet joke,

**25**

"Attention on deck!" Lieutenant Tierney's sharp-spoken command brought an instant hush to the bullpen as all present ceased what they were doing, jumped to their feet and assumed a brace.

"Belay that! As you were!" Harm called out as he made his way around the edge of the bullpen his office suite, where Jennifer Coates and a strange Legalman Two stood face-to-face across her desk.

Both petty officers chorused, "Good morning, Sir!"

"Good morning, Coates, good morning…" Harm replied, the rising inflection in his voice making it plain that he was looking for a clue to the young man's identity.

"Good morning, Sir, Legalman Two Phelps, Sir!" the young man replied smartly.

Harm nodded, the judges' Legalman. He shot a sharp glance at both Legalmen before realising the absurdity of his suddenly occurring suspicion. The young man looked to be a few years younger than Coates, and in the past he had heard her complain, bitterly, about how immature men of her own age were.

"And what brings you down from the Olympian heights of Judges' Chambers?" he asked the young man.

"Just delivering the court docket for the week, Sir."

Harm gave a brisk nod, "Very well, but if it is delivered, why are you still hanging about?"

Phelps blushed furiously, "Not, Sir! By your leave Sir?"

"Carry on, Legalman Two," Harm gave him permission to dismiss.

Harm paused before he opened his office door, "That young man giving you any hassle, Legalman One?"

Jen looked at him blankly for a moment until she realised what he had asked, "Oh, no, Sir. He's just a kid, and he is behaving himself, but even if he did overstep the mark, I can handle him, Sir!" she grinned.

Harm nodded again, and went on through into his office, closing the door behind him.

Three minutes later, Julia arrived in the office having parked the Navy sedan that had brought her and Harm into London, to find a still broadly grinning Jen making notes on the SOFA report which she was compiling. "' Morning, Jen, you're looking pretty pleased with yourself, or has something tickled your funny bone?"

Jen looked up at Julia's smiling face, "Good morning, not particularly pleased with myself, just having a quiet giggle; Marty Phelps was just down with the week's court docket, and the skipper seems to have got the impression that Marty was trying to hit on me, and came all overprotective. He practically ran Marty out of the office with a shotgun!"

Julia paused in the act of stowing her cover in the bottom drawer of her desk, "That has got to be exaggeration!" she protested.

"Not by much!" Jen replied, "it looks like I'll have to put him straight later, Marty Phelps is not only far too young for me, but he is also far too interested in that blonde Marine Lance Corporal on the CP."

"He is?" Julia asked, wide-eyed, "I didn't know that… I mean I'm never seen any…"

"No, you wouldn't," Jen's grin grew even broader, "the only guy you can see wears green and has two upside down white chevron's on his sleeve. And, I'll bet he's responsible for that sappy smile you keep wearing!"

Julia laughed merrily "Guilty on all counts, ma'am!"

Jen nodded in satisfaction, but before she could say anything in reply, the door to Harm's office opened, "There seems to be a fair bit of noise from this office this morning, is it too much to hope that the amount of work being produced is directly proportionate?"

"Yes, Sir!" Julia replied smartly.

"No, Sir!" Jen answered, equally smartly and at the same time.

Harm gazed first at Julia and then turned his head towards Jen, "Well, which is it? Oh, no, on second thoughts I don't want to know, I just take it on trust that at some stage during the morning one of you will bring something worthwhile to my attention!"

Jen bit her lip, and silently upbraided herself for wasting time, but before she could apologise, Julia cut in, "Uh, you might think this is worthwhile Sir," she held a small slip of paper in her hand, and before Harm could ask what it was, she continued, "It's a British Army form, Sir, it seems to be some sort of disposition form, releasing Corporal Morrison on three week's sick leave – whatever that is – and then three weeks light duties – whatever they are! But the date of release is today Sir!"

Harm looked slightly taken aback, "Right… First off, get in touch with the hospital, and find out what time Corporal Morrison is to be released, and find out exactly what those two terms mean. Once you've done that, get onto the OIC security detachment, and find out if he knows anything about this, and if so, what, if anything, he's done about providing transport for the Corporal."

"Aye, aye, Sir!" Julia responded crisply.

Harm gave both of his petty officers and other glance and then nodded again, "and once you've done all that, Yeoman Two, you might want to investigate as to the lack of coffee in my office?"

"Yes, Sir." Julia answered again.

After another last glower at both young women, Harm stepped back into his office and closed the door, leaving Jen and Julia desperately not looking at each other in case they each ignited another fit of the giggles in the other.

xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx

Harm gently closed the office door behind him and headed for his desk, gently shaking his head and with a bemused smile on his lips. Taking his seat, he reached for his daily calendar, and checked his "to-do" list.

The first item on the list would have to wait until Martinez brought his coffee, he told himself, so he could brief her on what he needed. And the second item on his list would have to wait for another five or six hours, until he could call the DC area at reasonable time. There are there are days, he mused, when life just decided to roll a few ball-bearings along the hall.

Fortunately, he did not have to wait long, in under ten minutes Julia rapped on his office door frame, and when ordered to enter opened the door to reveal that she had a mug of coffee in one hand and a file folder tucked under her left arm.

"Thank you, Yeoman Two," Harm said as she placed the coffee on the coaster on his desk, but then as she did not immediately turned back towards the door, he looked up with a slightly raised eyebrow, and asked, "Was there something else?"

"Yes, Sir. I checked with the hospital, Corporal Morrison will be ready to move at eleven hundred, Sir, and OIC Security Detachment has been briefed to send a car for her. I also confirmed with the hospital what was meant by sick leave and light duties. Sick leave is our hospital leave, Sir, authorised by a physician; light duties translates as restricted duties, Sir."

Harm's eyebrows rose slightly higher, "Good work, Yeoman Two, and quickly done, too. Now," he swiftly continued remembering item number one on his "to-do" list, get onto American Airlines, and get me a seat to DC departing anytime next Thursday, returning Tuesday, check my air miles balance, and if I have enough get them to bump me up to comfort economy. I shall be in DC for Labor Day weekend, at the same address and on the same number as I was for the July fourth weekend, if you haven't got a record of it, get the details from Coates. Thank you, that will be all."

"Yes, Sir!" Julia replied.

Harm waited for Julia to leave the office before he picked up his phone and dialled Commander Moseley.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Barely had Julia left Harm's office, when Jen almost bolted to her feet, "Hold the fort!" She flung over her shoulder as she disappeared into the bullpen, leaving Julia staring, open mouthed, after her.

Jen however wasn't gone more than about five minutes before she returned, a smile on her face, "That ought to keep Abramowicz out of trouble for a couple of hours anyway," she remarked she retook her, seat, carefully smoothing her skirt under her as she did so, and then looking up saw the question in Julia's face, "My lease agreement, Captain Rabb wants it checked out before he will approve me moving off-base."

Julia nodded, "Makes sense… But, have you checked out what the Brit laws are on landlord and tenant agreements?"

Jen grinned, "there was a whole lot of legalese in there, and that's why I'm getting a third party to check it out for me, but I told him that there were any references then he should check them out before we accept or declines the lease agreement."

"Who? Abramowicz or the Captain?" Julia asked, bewildered by the sudden deluge of pronouns.

Jen gave her what could only be described as an old-fashioned look, "Abramowicz, of course!"

Julia looked straight back at her, "Of course," she agreed, and then turned her attention back to looking up the telephone number for American Airlines at Heathrow, while Jen gathered the contents of her out-tray, and turning knocked on Harm's office door.

She returned to her desk no more than three or four minutes later, and checking the card in her hand picked up the phone and dialled.

"Royal Navy Legal Services?" She asked when the phone was picked up at the other end, and after a few seconds said, "I need to speak to a Commander Roberts, this is Petty Officer First Class Coates at the US Navy legal office here in London, I'm calling on behalf of Captain Rabb…"

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Harm unlocked his front door and stood waiting until the car pulled away from the curbside and then turned left at the end of the road. Coates and Martinez had traded-off driving duties for the week, and this had been the first time that Jen had driven him, and he was pretty sure that it was the first time she had driven at all, since she passed the British driving test. She had been slightly unsure of the route, but had appeared comfortable enough behind the wheel, and driven with her usual competence, and in fact without the nervousness she had sometimes displayed when she had driven him in her old Ford Escort back in DC.

Entering the house, he hung his cover on the coat rack next to the door and dropped his briefcase next to the hall table that stood under. Checking his watch he decided to make his postponed call to the DC area. Settling into the couch, he picked up the phone and dialled from memory.

"_Roberts' residence_."

"Harriet, it's Harm… " Was all he had time to say before he was interrupted by Harriet's squeal of excitement.

"_Sir! How wonderful! How are you? Is everything alright? How is Jennifer settling in? How…_"

"Whoa! Slow down, slow down, I can't keep track of so many questions… And besides which, Harriet Roberts, how many times do I have to tell you, it's Harm…"

"_Not 'Sir', I know, but it's very difficult, and you're not here to keep reminding me…_"

"That's why I'm calling Harriet, have you got your pen and paper handy?"

"_Naturally… Go ahead, Sir… uh… I mean Harm_," Harriet giggled self-consciously.

"Okay Harriet, I shall be arriving at Dulles a week on Thursday, that's September First, on American Airlines flight 6178, ETA twenty thirty hours. I'm coming over the adoption appeal, staying for Labor Day weekend and flying back to London on Tuesday. Can I beg a bed and…"

"_Of course you can! And no need to ask! I'll have Bud pick you up from the airport, and we'll sort out about getting you back to the airport once you're safely here_!"

"Thanks Harriet, still the formidable organiser I see!"

Harriet giggled again, "_It's what I do, Harm_."

"It is indeed, it is indeed… Is Mattie around?" Harm asked with a touch of hope in his voice.

"_Harm, it's thirteen twenty hours here, Mattie's at school_."

"Oh, yeah, I kinda forgot the time difference for a minute… But you will tell her I called, right?"

"_Damn straight_!" Harriet chuckled, "_If I wouldn't tell her and she found out later, you'd probably be back in the States just in time for my funeral!_" Harriet paused for a moment or two before she spoke again, and when she did her voice was much softer and Harm could hear both concern and sympathy in it, "_You really miss her, don't you Harm?_"

For a split second Harm felt a rush of irritation, not only was he still not prepared to let many people through his barriers, so resented any shows of sympathy towards him, but Harriet's question, seemed to him, be one of the dumbest ever asked.

He fought down his reflexive response, "Yeah I miss her, Harriet, in so many ways, and more than I could possibly say."

Harriet gave a quiet sigh, "_She misses you, too, Harm. Most the time, you wouldn't tell but every so often, especially if she thinks no one can see her, she gets this sort of faraway look in her eyes and a sad sort of smile on her face. So I'll tell her you called, but I guess I don't have to tell her that you told me to give her your love._"

Harm smiled to himself, "No, I wouldn't need to would I? You'd tell her anyway."

"_Damn straight_!" Harriet repeated herself, "_Until Thursday week, is that right_?"

"Yeah that's right, say hi to Bud for me, and give my love to AJ, Jimmy and the twins, and I'll see you all Thursday next week. I've got to run Harriet, I need to make another call. 'Bye."

"_Goodbye, until next week_!" Harriet said cheerfully.

Harm rung-off, feeling as he usually did after speaking with Harriet on the phone, almost exhausted. She made him feel old. Admittedly she was at least ten years younger than he but she had four children, three of them under school age, to look after, so she ought to be the one in a permanent state of fatigue and yet she always seemed to be as full of energy as the young PA Ensign he had met all those years ago.

With a grin and a shake of his head, he checked his watch and decided that Gill was probably in her bunk, and would be able to speak. He pressed phone memory button number one.

"'_Ullo sailor, what can a girl like me do for a man like you this evening_?" Gill asked in a throaty and deplorable stage-French accent.

Taken by surprise, Harm spluttered for a moment or two, "You… You… You could get arrested for that!"

"_H'mm… Sounds interesting_," Gill said but thankfully for Harm's composure in her usual voice.

Despite himself, Harm chuckled, "Gill, I am trying to be serious here… Help me out, will you?"

"_Oh, I thought perhaps you might just want to whisper sweet nothings into my ear…_" Gill said, and Harm was sure she was pouting, and couldn't resist a smile.

"I'll whisper as many sweet nothings as any girl could possibly want to hear, but after I've said said what I need to…"

Harm's words seemed to act like a shower of cold water on Gill, when she spoke next her voice was serious, she had dropped all playfulness, and Harm thought he could detect worry in her tone, "_Harm, is everything alright_?"

"Yeah, yeah there's nothing wrong, but I have been holding out on you a little. Next Thursday, I'm flying back to the States for a long weekend, on Friday it's Mattie's adoption hearing, and then it's Labor Day weekend, I'm staying for the holiday and flying back on Tuesday. Hopefully, when I get back I'll be busy making arrangements for Mattie to join me. But before that happens, I need to clear up a couple of things – no, I just need to clear one thing, but I think it's a biggie." Harm drew a deep breath and then plunged on before Gill could interrupt, "I know what I said about appearances of impropriety, and not wanting to make you the subject of gossip, but I've tried to broach the subject of a couple of times while we've been having dinner and every time I tried we've been interrupted by a waiter or sommelier or… So, I'm inviting you to dinner in my quarters on Friday evening, you can bring an overnight bag if you want, and I could book you a room at the Premier Inn again…"

For a long moment there was silence, and Harm was about to panic when Gill answered, "_I've thought from time to time that there was something bothering you, but I didn't ask, because I figured you let me know when you were ready. It sounds like you're ready now. Yes, I'd love to come to dinner, but as for the room at the hotel, you did say you have more than one bedroom, didn't you_?"

"Yes, yes I did!" Harm swallowed violently to send his heart from his throat back down into his chest.

"_I trust you, so if you don't mind me inviting myself, I'd like to come down, not just for Friday night, but to have a quiet, and if you want, conversational weekend…_"

"Yeah, I'd like that, I'd like that very much," Harm said quietly.

"_Good! I'm looking forward to it already_," Gill's smile was plain to hear. "_Now, somebody said something about all the sweet nothings a girl could ever wish to hear… Well, sailor, I'm all ears…_"

Harm smiled with relief the playful note was back in Gill's voice. He settled himself into a more comfortable position on the couch and relaxed. "_Have I ever told you, just how much I love the smell of your shampoo…_" he grinned.

Gill erupted with laughter, "_Harm, that's possibly the… the… the most ridiculous, improbable, saddest so-called compliment that any man has ever said to any girl since the world began_!"

"Hey, work with me here and give me a break!" Harm demanded with pretended offended dignity, "I'm way out of practice at this, and I'm just warming up!"

"_Oh, do you mean there's more… and better... to come_?"

"Damn straight," Harm grinned, "so pin back your ears and listen because there's a whole bunch of 'em coming right down the pike…"

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

On Tuesday morning Julia noted a certain nervous excitement in Jen, and cudgelled her mind to seek a reason, and as far as she knew, only one thing had changed recently. But not really believing she had found the answer, she turned to Jen and said, "Are you handling the driving okay, Jen, you seem a bit… I don't know… maybe a bit edgy, kinda strung out this morning?"

Jen grinned ruefully, "As obvious as that? Oh well, but no, no it is not the driving that's fine… It's this stuff…" she tapped her pen on the file folder in front of her. "It's my application to move off base, application for OHA, moving in allowance, lease agreement, and… well, just about everything for the move… and I'm just waiting for a suitable opportunity to take it all in for his signature. But it feels like Commander Moseley has been in there for hours!"

Julia looked at her copy of Harm's calendar, and then at her watch, "He's been there all of eleven minutes!" Julia exclaimed in surprise.

Jen seemed to deflate slightly, "I know, I know… I just said it seems like hours!"

"Uh-huh..." Julia nodded and decided that a change of subject would be beneficial. "And how is that SOFA report coming on?"

"Okay, why?" Jen asked.

"Oh I guess that because Johnny put your ass, uh...put you on the right road I feel a certain proprietorial interest…"

"Yeah, he did, and I am so, so grateful to him for that. Without his input I didn't have a clue as to where I should start looking. So, once I get settled in my new apartment, you and your Johnny are definitely coming to a house-warming! And as for the report, I've got a whole string of news reports from different TV stations, but it's all pretty anecdotal, but if only half of it's true, it's a pretty grim story. But I'm now talking to, or trying to talk to different police jurisdictions, and see if I can get hold of copies of their crime reports."

"Good luck with that!" Julia said.

"Yeah, tell me about it, England could do with an FOIA all of its own! Once I get back to the states, I'll never complain about dealing with an FOIA request ever again!"

Julia may not have had any legal training, but she had spent enough time in the legal office to figure out just how fond Legalman and Junior attorneys were of Freedom of Information requests, so she gave Jen a cynical glance and muttered, "Yeah right."

Jen contemplated making a reply, but in the end decided the game wasn't worth the candle, she didn't want Harm catching them both wasting time two days in a row.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

By Thursday, Harm caught himself alternatively daydreaming about a pair of expressive brown eyes and nervously anticipating – even worrying – about Friday evening and the weekend. After one such reverie, he shook his head in impatience with himself, and decided it was time to stretch his legs, to stroll around the bullpen and remind its inhabitants of his existence.

He was pleased at the reaction to his presence, the bullpen, never really a bear-garden, did quieten slightly, but not to the extent that the quiet seemed oppressive, and the enlisted from Legalman Two Abramowicz on downwards had no trouble in meeting his eyes, nor in answering his questions. Satisfied with the state of morale in the office, Harm decided it wouldn't hurt him if for once he got his own coffee, and had just turned towards the office doors when they swung open to reveal a travel-stained and crumpled Lieutenant Sullivan, dressed in a civilian pants-suit and struggling with a seabag, garment bag and suitcase.

"Hey, let me take that," Harm reached out and took the garment bag out of Theresa Sullivan's unresisting hand, freeing it to grab hold of the sea bag's shoulder strap which was threatening to slip down onto her upper arm.

Lieutenant Sullivan's "Oh, thank you, Sir!" came straight from her heart, as did the surprised expression on her face at Harm's next words.

Casting a quick glance around, his eyes had lit on Seaman Valentino, "Do you know how the Lieutenant takes her coffee?"

"Yes, Sir! NATO standard, Sir!"

"Good, make mine strong black and sweet, then bring them both to the Lieutenant's office!"

A slightly startled Valentino, who was waiting for advancement to E-4 before applying to Legalman's school, could only reply, "Aye, aye, Sir!"

Harm walked a surprised into silence Lieutenant to her office and opened the door for her, turning to hang her garment bag on the hook behind the door while she dumped seabag and suitcase out of the way behind her desk. Harm turned to see her still standing, and made a deprecating gesture, "Sit down, please, Lieutenant. I didn't expect to see you back from Plymouth quite so quickly?"

"No Sir, but… but would you take a seat, please, Sir?"

Harm guessed that the slightly flustered young woman needed a few seconds to gather her thoughts, so with a nod and a muttered thank you, he sat on one of her visitors' chairs, noticing with a grimace of displeasure that it was the same type of hard, uncomfortable, blue plastic chair that seemed to be a permanent fixture in military medical facilities. He made a mental note to check the office budget and see if there was any slack there for upgrading at least the visitors chairs.

Harm decided to wait for the coffee's before asking for a verbal report, content to fill in the intervening moments with small-talk, "How was the trip?"

"Pretty frustrating, Sir. It's like driving from DC to… to… Norfolk, but without the benefit of highway all the way. The UK motorway system isn't quite as developed as the interstate network back to home, Sir. To stay on motorways all the way to Plymouth means driving the other two sides of a right angled triangle, in other words the long way round, so I told my driver to take the hypotenuse, and that led down the same road that you took to that artillery demonstration… like I said, Sir, it's only just over two hundred miles but it took well over four hours."

"You have my sympathies, I remember how horror-struck I was when I learned it would take over two hours to cover the ninety miles between here and Tidworth!" Harm grinned in remembrance of his reaction that day. Still, and his mind drifted for a moment, it had all been worth it.

He was almost instantly recalled to the present by a knock on the office door, signalling the arrival of Valentino with the two mugs of coffee. For a moment, he thought he saw Lieutenant Sullivan looking at him strangely, and wondered whether she had caught his lapse in concentration, but by the time they had each taken delivery of their coffee and Valentino had left the office she once more presented nothing more than the facade of a dutiful officer.

Harm took a sip of his coffee, and said, "I didn't expect to see you back before Monday, so I assume that all went smoothly in Plymouth?"

"Yes, Sir, the FJA on board, a Lieutenant Commander Kim, agreed with his clients that they should all plead guilty, as a result, they were all placed on restricted pay, three hundred dollarsa month for six months, the first three months restricted pay to go to the bar owner. I think the judge, Colonel Grant, took it easy on them because they pleaded guilty."

Harm nodded, "and not a suspicion of undue command influence anywhere?"

Sullivan blushed furiously, "No, Sir! And, Sir… I am so sorry for saying that…"

"No need to be, Lieutenant, I think I would be more upset with you if you hadn't mentioned it." He took a glance to his right, through the office window blinds, and hastily drained his coffee mug. "I think there's someone else waiting to say welcome home, so I'll leave you in peace now. Just remember, I don't want to have to send a chaperone to the breakroom with you - that's why we have broom closets!" He finished with a huge grin, leaving a definitely stunned Theresa Sullivan at her desk to return the welcome of Brian Tierney as best she could.

Chuckling at the success of his tease, Harm returned to the relative sanity of his own office, pausing momentarily to check with Jen and Julia for any messages that may have come in during his few minutes absence. Once sat at his desk, however, something that Theresa Sullivan had said niggled. The only JAG named Kim he could recall had been a Lieutenant in the Patrick Henry all those years ago at 'X-Man' Buxton's court martial. If it was the same individual, and he had been continuously afloat since those days, then something had gone seriously adrift. Kim was one of his officers, so it was up to him to investigate… He tilted his monitor more towards him, and brought up Lieutenant Commander Kim's SRB…

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Jen was even more overloaded than Lieutenant Sullivan had been when the following morning. As she struggled through the doors to the CP, with two sea bags, a garment bag and a suitcase she was beginning to realise, even on the short walk from the parking lot where she'd left the car, that she might just have bitten off more than she could comfortably chew. So it was with embarrassment that as she dumped a seabag and carefully laid the garment bag over it so that she could sign in, she heard a coolly amused voice from behind her, "Shipping out, Petty Officer?"

The voice rang a bell somewhere in the recesses of Jen's memory, and she turned to face the owner of it, to find herself looking into a pair of faintly amused dark eyes, deep-set in a dark tanned face.

"Uh, no… no, First Sergeant, I'm moving off base, into an apartment, and the easiest way to move my stuff is to bring into the office at the beginning of the day, and then take it to the new place after secure.

Victor Galindez raised a cynical eyebrow,"Doesn't look too easy to me," he observed, and then fell silent while Jen signed in and the Marine Corporal on duty handed her her building pass. Then as she bent to pick up garment bag seabag, Victor stepped forward, "I'll take those up for you Petty Officer…"

Jen was torn between expressing gratitude and declining the offer, she was thankful for the help, but almost every fibre of her being was screaming that she was an independent woman, and didn't need any help. In this case, gratitude won over pride, and with a weak smile she said, "Thank you, First Sergeant,"

Victor gave a small grunt of surprise, as he hefted the seabag, not that the bag was too heavy for him, but it was heavier than he had expected. Petty Officer Coates was obviously physically stronger than she looked. With the garment bag hooked by two fingers over one shoulder, and the seabag on his other shoulder he fell into step with Jen as she turned towards the elevator.

"You know, Petty Officer, me and the Captain and the Colonel, we go back a long way, and as those jarheads," he indicated the CP with a backward jerk of his head, "are technically part of my company, it's quite likely that you and I will continue to bump into each other at intervals."

"Yeah?" Jen asked wondering where the First Sergeant was going with this, and as the thought occurred to her she gave a little giggle, hastily cut off, but not before the Marine had heard her.

He had about been respond to the question implied in her answer, but on hearing what he considered a gurgle of amusement, he grinned in sympathy and asked, "Did I say something dumb?"

Jen stepped inside the elevator as the door slid open and stepped back to make room for the Marine NCO before she looks him in the eyes once more and answered, "No, you didn't say anything that dumb, but it was a little long-winded, and I was just thinking that if you were counsel in the courtroom and I was the judge, I'd be demanding to know where you were going with it…"

Victor gave a half-grin, "Yeah, I see what you mean… But what I was going to say was that if we keep bumping into each other, then 'Petty Officer' and 'First Sergeant', are pretty clumsy and long winded names to keep calling each other, so if you're alright with it, when there's just the two of us, I'm Victor," and seeing a slight wince crossed Jen's face, he asked slightly anxiously, "Is there something wrong with that?"

Jen shook her head, "I hope not, but it is Victor, right? Never Vic?"

Victor shook his head, "Never! The only person who gets away with calling me anything but Victor, is my mom, and only when she lapses into Spanish, when she calls me Victorio!"

Jen's expression cleared, and developed into one of her full-blown, dimple-revealing smiles, "Oh, that's okay then, and I'm Jen, and around here the only person who occasionally calls me Jennifer, is the Captain."

It was Victor's turn to feel slightly concerned; that the Captain was familiar enough with the petty officer to call her by her first name felt somehow… wrong, but he decided that with any luck there would be plenty of time for him to get the full story from Jen. And on that subject… "So, where's the new apartment?" He asked in mildly interested tones.

"Stanmore," Jen answered as the lift sighed to stop on the third floor and the doors slid open, and then seeing a look of incomprehension on Victor's face she added, "it's about a forty minute tube ride and walk from here."

Victor looked at her in disbelief. "You were going to try to haul all this baggage by yourself on a forty minute tube ride and how far to walk? It's not going to happen, Jen. You secure at seventeen hundred, as usual?"

"Yeah, but you don't have to…"

"Yeah, yeah I do. What would the Captain say if he saw you struggling, the way I just did?"

Jen was forced to giggle as she envisaged Harm's reaction to seeing her struggling with her bags, attracting attention as she and Victor crossed the bullpen, "He'd probably rip me a new one for being a dumbass, and then grab a couple of bags off me," she confessed.

"Well, you're not in my chain of command, and I don't know you as well as the Captain," 'yet' Victor silently added, "so you're going to have to let me slide on ripping you a new one, but I got the bags now, and I'll be back at secure."

"Back where, First Sergeant?" Harm's voice coming unexpectedly from behind them slammed both Victor and Jen into as much of a brace as they could manage burdened as they were.

"Sir! Back here, at secure, Sir. To give the Petty Officer a hand moving her gear to her new place, Sir!"

"I see, well, it's a relief to know that the office won't be cluttered for too long. Carry on please, First Sergeant, Legalman One."

Harm sauntered into his office, only allowing his grin to appear once the door was safely close behind him. Well, well, well… The Gunny and the Petty Officer, and that may not be a bad thing, Victor Galindez was one of the finest men he knew, and one of the most honourable, and could be trusted not to inflict too much damage if nothing came to pass. Jennifer Coates was an exceptional young woman, who in a very short space of time had turned her life around, saved Bud Roberts' life and had quickly become an indispensable part of the team. Yes, Victor and Jen would come to no harm with each other he decided. His grin broadened into a huge smile as a thought occurred to him; what with Tierney and Sullivan, and Martinez and her Bombardier and now Victor and Jen, the damned office was turning into the damned Love Boat, that's if his suspicions were correct.


	26. Chapter 26

**26**

Julia threw her sea-bag into the boot of the Ford Focus, the only rental left available when she'd phoned, and with a grin of anticipation slid into the driver's seat, and adjusted seat and mirrors until she was happy. Turning the key in the ignition, she smoothly engaged gear and let out the clutch, allowing a ride to roll away from the curbside. Moving up through the gears, she navigated the narrow streets until she emerged onto the main road, heading south to join the A40 road which fed on to the M40, and eventually via the M25 to the A303 and so on to the depths of darkest Hampshire and Wiltshire, where once again she had booked a room at the George Hotel, in Amesbury.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Jen's "Umph!" of relief as she dropped the stuffed black, plastic, transfer bag onto the lounge space floor wasn't quite echoed by Victor as he placed a large cardboard box of kitchen appliances on the kitchen-cum-dining table.

Victor looked around the small apartment's main room, four or five framed photographs leaned against one wall, while a similar sized stack of small photographs peered over the edge of a second cardboard box that sat in one of the armchairs.

Jen blew a vagrant strand of hair out of her eyes, and with every sign of satisfaction looked approvingly at the clutter around her. "I really, really owe you for this, Victor," she announced bestowing a brilliant smile upon him, "if you wouldn't have helped me yesterday and today, I probably wouldn't have been this far ahead by Sunday! I really don't know how to say thank you, enough."

Victor smiled, the slow, almost reluctant smile of a man who hadn't had much to smile about recently. He tapped the brand-new electric kettle, still in its packaging, that stuck out of the top of the box he had carried up from the pool car outside, "You could always try to see how effective a coffee might be." he suggested.

Jen looked at him in some surprise, "Offer instant coffee to a Marine?" she laughed, "I know better than that and I don't have a death wish!"

"I kinda think that you'd be pretty safe, Jen. But you do have a point… and didn't I see a coffee shop just around the corner? So how would it be if I went and got us a coffee while you make a start on some of this…" he made a vague gesture indicating the various bags, boxes and suitcases scattered around the room.

"Oh… Thanks, thanks a lot, but I don't want to keep you hanging around too long this evening, it's Friday, you must have something better to do!"

Victor pursed his lips as if considering his options for the evening, eventually to shake his head and say, "Okay... let's see... I could spend a couple of hours here, helping you unpack, or, I could head back to base, and either lie on my rack trying to read, or at my desk working on the next weeks duty rosters, or I could walk across to the Sergeants Mess, which will be nearly deserted on a Friday night, except for a couple of the older guys, leaning on the bar and complaining about the air force until it's time for their separation. H'mm... So, a couple of hours spent in the company attractive young woman, or the same couple of hours spent in the company of a couple of overweight, half drunk, Brit Zoomies… it's a difficult choice."

Jen was slightly surprised, she'd been told often enough that men found her attractive, and mostly she had turned off such compliments with a shrug, a laugh and a joke. After all most men when they said it could hardly tear their eyes away from her bust, and the far from intended effect of such compliments was usually an awakening of a sense of irritation. But this time, it was different, Victor didn't seem to be handing out spurious compliments in the hope of weakening her resistance, but seemed to be merely stating the facts as he saw them, and his possible choices of entertainment for the evening. And this time far from feeling irritation, Jen felt a warm glow at his words.

"Well, when you put it like that, it is kinda comforting to know that you prefer my company, just, to that of a couple of old men!" she said dryly.

"Good, that's settled, then," Victor said happily, "Now, how do you take your coffee?"

"At this time of day? Best make mine a cappuccino, with a sprinkling of chocolate on the top but no sugar. But I'll bet yours is black, with… a triple shot of espresso!"

Victor grinned, "At least!"

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Harm took an almost nervous glance at his watch, and then gave the lounge a sweeping, visual, once over, checking that all was in order; through the door to the dining room, he could see the table, already set, but as for a family type dinner, a clean tablecloth and with table mats, flatware and glasses already set out. He had decided against candles or flowers on the table – at least for tonight – not wanting to even hint that he might be entertaining thoughts of seduction.

The living room, or lounge, was subtly, but he hoped not romantically, softly lit by two traditional, wooden standard lamps in diagonally opposite corners. The Hi-Fi unit had been preloaded with five CDs of soft jazz, and the volume set to a comfortable level to provide background without making it necessary for whoever was speaking to raise his or her voice above the conversational level.

He had alerted the RAF SP's at the guardroom that he was expecting a visitor, and had furnished them not only with her name but with the car license plate details. The coffee machine was primed and only needed switching on, the salad was crisping in the fridge and the first course of the dinner, a vegetable terrine, was already plated, and was, covered by cling wrap, also waiting in the fridge, as was the dessert, a fresh fruit salad, while the main course, Harm's own variation of a vegetarian moussaka, made with lentils, was browning in the oven.

Another glance at his watch told him that it was only two minutes since he last checked the time, but that also meant it was a further two minutes closer to Gill's ETA. 'For God's sakes, get a grip on yourself, Rabb!' he castigated himself as he slumped into one of the armchairs. 'This isn't a first date, you and Gill get on fine, this is just going to be a quiet, friendly, dinner, followed by a little conversation between friends…'

'Yeah, right… First off, this is just a quiet friendly, dinner; this is the first time you invited Gill to your home, and she's going to be staying overnight… possibly tomorrow night too. Secondly, this is not going to be a little conversation between friends, this is going to be where and when you explain how and why you're so screwed up.'

Harm fidgeted uncomfortably in the chair for a few more seconds before he hauled himself to his feet, deciding that he needed to check, for one more time, the bedroom he had prepared for Gill. However, before he'd taken more than three steps towards the stairs he spun on his heel even as his heart skipped a beat as the door bell sounded.

Crossing to the door, he halted in front of it, took a deep breath, and finally swung it open, to reveal Gill standing on the doorstep, a smile on her face, and a duffel slung over her shoulder.

"Hi," they said almost in unison, and both grinned broadly at the coincidence that led them to use the same greeting at the same time.

Harm leaned in and gave her a soft kiss on the cheek before he stepped back and said, "Come on in, and let me take that!" He exclaimed reaching for the duffel's strap.

With a murmured thanks, Gill slid the strap off her arm, allowing Harm to relieve her of the double even as she stepped through the door**,** her fingers going to the zipper of her cream blouson-style jacket.

Harm smiled "Why don't I show you your bedroom, a and you can hang your jacket in the closet, and settle in…"

"I hope this is okay?" Harm asked as he opened the door to the room he had prepared for Gill, "I'm sorry but the house only has the one bathroom, but it does have a bolt on the door…" He gestured vaguely out of the door and across the hall "it's not quite what I would have wanted, but it is government housing, what I can gather the UK and the USA have slightly different ideas about what makes a home…"

"That's true enough," Gill agreed, "going by what I've seen on TV and on film, and by what you've already told me… But this is fine, honestly."

"If you're sure…" Harm added doubtfully, "I'll leave you to get settled, and come on down whenever you're ready, in the meantime, I'll pour us a glass of wine…"

"I'm sure," Gill smiled, "you go on ahead, I'll be down in a couple of minutes."

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Gill was as good as her word, appearing in the living room doorway less than five minutes later, dressed in a sage-green blouse and a pair of tan, boot cut slacks, she wore a single strand of pearls around her neck, just visible through the open, neck of her blouse, and had taken advantage of the opportunity to check her make-up. As she stood in the doorway she took the opportunity to look around her. The room was clean and tidy; too tidy, she thought. The cushions on the armchairs and on the couch were arranged square on, with military precision, there were no pictures on the walls, not even photographs of friends or family. The fireplace overmantel was equally innocent of photographs or knick-knacks, as were the side tables against the walls, and the roll-top desk against the far wall. In fact the only signs of habitation were a bottle of wine and two glasses on one of the side tables, and the laptop computer sitting on top of the roll-top desk. It was a house, she decided, but it was an unloved house, and certainly not a home.

Harm stood as she entered the room, and stepped towards her, taking one of her hands in his, and with a gentle finger raised her face for his kiss.

Gill, when they broke the kiss, swayed forwards, her hands coming to rest on Harm's upper arms, her face still tilted up, as she smiled and said, "And very good evening to you too, sailor!"

Gill felt the rumble deep in Harm's chest as he chuckled, "it's been a long time, since last Sunday, and you look good enough to eat!"

Gill nodded wisely "Ah... That's what you were trying to do… I was just expecting a kiss…"

"Well, if that wasn't up to your demanding standards Madam, should we try again?" Harm smiled.

"Oh, I thought you'd never ask!" Gill chuckled.

This time when they broke the kiss Harm lifted his hands from the upper curve of Gill's hips as she somewhat reluctantly unlaced her fingers from the nape of Harm's neck. And then as Gill, still marvelling at the muscles on Harm's biceps allowed her fingers to trail down the length of his forearms, he captured one of her hands in his and led her towards the couch. He let her sit before saying, somewhat shamefacedly, "I opened the wine, but then figured I had maybe a been a bit presumptuous in assuming that you would want wine before dinner, so I haven't poured anything yet, because I can offer you the wine, a dry fino sherry, or I seem to recall you drinking vodka and tonic in the mess…?"

Gill smiled up at him, "The wine sounds good to me, thank you."

Harm nodded, and turned briefly away towards the side table, returning to Gill with two Grand Vin glasses each holding a generous measure of wine.

Gill took her glass, and raising a teasing eyebrow at Harm and with a laugh in her eyes and voice, asked, "Are you trying to get me drunk, sailor?"

Harm took his seat at the end of the couch, leaving about a foot space between them. He raised his glass in a silent salute and shook his head "No, not this time… But I make no promises for future occasions!" He added with a wicked smile.

"Oh, there are going to be future occasions, then?" Gill challenged him, as she took the most minute sip of her wine, barely wetting her lips.

Harm put his glass down on the coffee table, and looked directly at Gill, "I want there to be," he said honestly, "but that decision is also yours. Yes, a decision to turn an acquaintance, or friend, into a lover must be a shared decision, the contrary, opposite decision is a unilateral decision. I have already made my decision, where, given my druthers I want us to go, you have to share in that decision. It's the reason that I said I want to have a deep conversation with you, I don't want you to be under any false illusions, so I'm setting my stall out…"

Gill nodded soberly, "When you want to do this? Oh, I know you mean this evening," she made a vague gesture with one hand, "would you want to do it before or after we eat?"

Harm nodded, "After we eat, I think. I put a fair amount of work into this dinner, and I'm afraid my story might spoil your appetite." He added, hoping to lift the mood, which had become slightly too introspective and too heavy for this early in the evening.

Gill responded in kind, "As long as the anticipation doesn't spoil my appetite, I'm with you… And to be quite honest, I was beginning to worry that you weren't going to feed me! I've been looking forward to this since my lunchtime sandwich, and I'm starving!"

Harm smiled and stood, extending a hand to help Gill to her feet, "Are you sure you're not a Marine?" he asked.

Gill turned a slight frown towards him, "You keep asking me that, and I am getting to the stage where I really want to know why. Is it too much to hope for that I might get an answer to that question this evening?"

Harm picked up the two nearly full wine glasses, and gestured towards the door that led to the dining room, "Unlike the mess, here, one is not only allowed to bring one's drink to the table, but one is positively encouraged to do so."

Gill chuckled, "That is possibly the worst attempt at an upper-class English accent I have ever heard; I strongly suggest that while you are here in the UK, you restrict your attempts at foreign accents strictly to Ol' Alabamy, or generic Dixie! And while that was a nice try, don't think I didn't notice that you still haven't answered my question!"

Harm placed the glasses on the coasters waiting for them, and pulled out Gill's chair. "Yes, I fully intend to make a complete clean breast of my somewhat murky past. But, for the moment, let's just try to enjoy dinner.

"Yes, I rather like that idea!" Gill agreed.

And although the gorilla had been let out of its cage, and was squatting silently in a corner of the room, Gill and Harm did enjoy their meal, and the fairly light-hearted conversation that went with it. Harm regaled Gill with the more humorous aspects of goings-on in the JAG office, delighting in her musical laugh as he told her of the break-room and broom closet crack he had made to Theresa Sullivan.

Gill was forced to use a delicate fingertip to blot the tears of laughter from her eyes as he finished the story, "That poor Lieutenant! To have her stiff, stern, rigidly unbending commanding officer, with all the power and dignity of a captain, to suddenly turn around and tease her like that! It really wasn't fair of you, Harm, but oh, I wish I could have seen her face!"

Harm chuckled, "Her expression was nothing, you should have seen the way Lieutenant Tierney kept looking at me later!"

At length, Gill scraped the last of the crème fraîche from the bottom of her dessert dish. "That, was a superb meal," she enthused, "if anybody had told me, before tonight, that it was possible to enjoy a dinner, quite so much, without it containing meat, I would not have believed them!"

"Thank you!" A slightly startled Harm replied. Due to Gill's unfailing good manners and attention to etiquette he had prepared himself for her thanks, but he hadn't expected them to be quite so full and enthusiastic.

"How did you become such an accomplished chef, and how did you manage to survive shipboard rations as a vegetarian? Even today, David tells me that even the wardroom's rations can get a little… monotonous… towards the end of a long cruise."

Harm stood up, and snagged the still half-full bottle of wine from the table, and swiftly sidestepped around the table to pull Gill's chair back as she stood in her turn. "Now, we are treading on ground that is best addressed in the confessional, so…" He indicated the door leading back to the living room.

He let Gill lead the way, but as she was about to take up her old seat on the couch, Harm said, "not everything I've got to tell you is very pretty and there are certain times when I won't be shown in the best light, and you could end up hating me. So, if you prefer, please feel free to sit anywhere."

"Anywhere?" Gill asked disingenuously.

"Anywhere you like," Harm agreed gravely.

"In that case, I prefer to sit here, with you. I have a sneaky suspicion, that this isn't going to be easy for you, and I want to be with you, to support you, if you like…"

Harm looked down into her eyes, "Thank you," he said quietly and simply.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Victor drained the last of his bottle of soda, and grinned at Jen. The living area of the apartment now looked quite liveable. Most of the boxes had been unpacked and their contents stowed away. The stowing away of Jen's belongings had started in a half-hearted sort of way while she was waiting for him to return from the coffee shop. With Victor's return, their efforts had redoubled and in a surprisingly short space of time chaos was reduced to order.

A surprisingly short space of time it might have been, but it was late enough for Jen to realise that Victor had undoubtedly missed his dinner in the mess. A short altercation followed, but ended in victory for the Navy, as Jen threw on a jeans jacket, and ran down to the local Chinese takeaway.

Now the table was cluttered with the plastic, lidded containers that were favoured by the UK takeaway vendors. Victor had remarked on the apparent profligacy in using plastic containers rather than cardboard containers which could just be crumpled up and thrown in the recycling.

Jen, however, looked appraisingly at the containers. "I don't know," she mused, "they're pretty much like Tupperware," she giggled at Victor's puzzled expression, "or didn't Lieutenant Simms bring her and Lieutenant Roberts' lunch in and stow them in the galley fridge, back in the day?"

Victor nodded, his slow grin stealing across his face, as he understood what Jen was getting at, "Yeah, I guess so…"

Jen nodded in satisfaction. "Well, we're both stuffed to the gills, and there's plenty left over, so what's left can be consolidated, go into the freezer, and I've got my Monday dinner! The other containers can be washed up, and put to one side for future use. In fact, I could even use one to pack my lunchtime sandwiches in for Monday!"

"True," Victor acknowledged "my mom and my elder sisters would agree with you one hundred per cent although whether Valerie has as matured that much I very much doubt!" Then a thought occurred to him, "You seem to know Lieutenant Roberts and his family pretty well, did you ever meet his brother? My shameless youngest sister took pretty thorough advantage of him at one stage."

"Mikey?" Jen asked in surprise, then instead of waiting for an answer she continued, "Sure I know him, he got accepted into the Academy, he's a midshipman now… And doing very well, so we hear, if he sticks it out, he'll be an Ensign when he graduates next May!"

"Good grief," Victor groaned, "that means the next time I meet him, I'll have to salute him! My God, what is the Navy coming to!"

Jen cocked her head on one side consideringly, "I never thought of that… But I'm pretty sure that Mikey wouldn't insist on all that military protocol."

"He might not have, before he went to Annapolis," Victor grumbled, "the service academies do pretty well in removing the sense of humour from midshipman and cadets!"

Jen shook her head and chuckled, "you're becoming very cynical," she scolded him gently.

"Not cynical, realistic," Victor grinned, "and speaking realistically, it's time I was going. So, zero nine thirty tomorrow? That'll give us time to get the rest of your stuff up from base, so that we can finish in time for me to buy you lunch."

"There's no need for you to do that!" Jen protested, "You have saved me so much time, and trouble a Chinese takeaway and a light lunch, are hardly a fitting reward!"

"Whatever," Victor said standing up and patting his pockets to make sure he had the car keys.

"Not whatever," Jen contradicted him as she stood to walk him to the door.

Victor opened the door paused and half turned, "Good night, Jen," he bid her.

Jen felt herself beginning to leaning towards Victor, and with a slight blush, she stilled, and managed a murmured, "Good night," of her own.

Victor headed towards the stairwell, not dissatisfied with the way the evening turned out, although he did wonder at Jen's sudden blush as they parted company.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Harm waited until Gill had settled herself in the couch and then took of his own seat, and notwithstanding Gill's words, he carefully left a gap between them. He handed her a glass of wine, and took a meditative sip of his own drink. "Where to begin… I told you about my dad, and how that left mom and me on our own. For a while, well for me anyway, apart from missing dad it wasn't too bad in some ways, I stayed at the same school, I had the same friends… So there was some sense of continuity… Of course, people kept telling me I had to be brave for my mom, that I was a big boy, and big boys don't cry, and I was the man of the house now. Of course, I took it all in, I believed what they said, after all I might be the man of the house, but was still a little kid, and they were grown-ups, so they must know what they were talking about. And then some nights, when perhaps I couldn't sleep for some reason or other, I could hear mom crying in her bedroom, and I knew that the grown-ups were right, I had to be brave for her, make her think I was alright, so she'd have one less thing to cry about…" His voice trailed off into silence, and he took a rather more generous sip of his wine before he continued.

He took a deep breath, "Anyway mom and I carried on, each pretending to the other we weren't hurting, she looked after me, she looked after me well; she's always had very strong opinions about food, about what was good and what was not, the meals she gave me were always nutritious, plentiful, and very tasty. Then later, a few years later, she met Frank. I hated him. I hated him for years. He encouraged mom to step outside the house to become something more than a single mom. He even loaned her the seed money so she could start her own business. And for a while it was tough again, but the business made money all of a sudden we weren't scratching around for a living any more, and there was enough money to hire Rosa."

"Rosa is an enormous Mexican woman, damn near as wide as she is tall, who cooks and cleans for mom. All these years, and she's still working her magic in the kitchen. She's more a member of the family now than she is a servant, she was like a combination babysitter, nanny, confidante, maybe even more like an aunt to me, she spoiled me, she swatted me when I needed it – and boy, at that stage I needed it pretty much, and pretty often. And she taught me to cook, well, she taught me the basics, anyway. Poor Rosa, it broke her heart just as much as it broke mom's when I ran away…"

Harm took another mouthful of wine. "But I'm getting ahead of myself, I must have been pretty impossible after mom started seeing Frank. And I guess the long summer vacation was just too much for mom to face with me acting out, glowering and scowling every time Frank called, so, she packed me off to Gram's farm in Pennsylvania for the summer… Grams just about finished my culinary education, she also knocked hell of a lot of sense into me, sometimes with the back of her hand, sometimes with the aid of the length of two by two, but most often with a hazel switch! In fact I can't think of a week I spent at Grams that we didn't butt heads. Then when dad wasn't among the POWs sent home at the end of the war mom had him declared legally dead. It felt like I'd lost him all over again. By now the very sight of Frank made me feel physically sick, then when mom said that she and Frank were going to get married, I was thirteen at the time, I sneered, shrugged my shoulders, and said for her to go right ahead, but if she did marry Frank not to expect me at the wedding."

Gill had sat in silence up to this point, but now she exclaimed, "Harm, no!"

Harm grinned sourly, "I told you, a full confession, warts and all, and that it wasn't all going to be pretty, and there were some bits of the story that didn't show me in a particularly good light."

"Yes, yes, you did warn me. I'm sorry for interrupting, please, go on."

Harm lifted an eyebrow, "Are you sure?" And receiving Gill's nod, he took another sip of wine, "Okay, but remember you asked for this… The next three years I was a total son of a bitch to Frank, not much better to mom. But I had already set my heart on the Academy, and I kept my rebellion confined to home. I studied hard, I worked hard, I kept out of trouble at school, I didn't go to parties, and I got a reputation for being aloof. Anyway the summer I was sixteen, I took my savings, and I stole a couple of thousand of dollars from Frank, got hold of my passport, and without saying a word to anyone, I bought a ticket to Vietnam, where I tracked down a guy I had read about, a former Colonel of the Marines, who was searching for traces of prisoners still being held illegally by the Vietnamese…"

Harm's voice, and his eyes, took on a faraway quality as he recounted the weeks he spent traipsing through the jungles of yet now Cambodia and Laos, and AK-47 in hand and a Colt 45 pistol on his belt. His eyes misted over as once again he retold the agony of Gym's death at the hands trigger-happy Laotian border guards. Then came his discovery by Chuck De Palma and after his photograph had appeared in national newspapers, the swift descent of State Department officials who bundled him out of the country, onto a plane and back to USA.

He recounted his mother's fury, and the punishment details she set him for the rest of the summer, so that he was glad to get back to school and back to football practice for a rest. But it hadn't been the same, before the vacation girls had started to notice him, and, he told Gill with a half-grin, he kind of noticed the girls too, but after his return to school, there was something about him that seemed to frighten them.

"Next year, I graduated, and thanks, as I found out years later, to Frank my mother signed my application for the Academy, and off I went to Plebe Summer. That kinda put the brakes on any sort of love life for the next six years. Midshipmen are strictly forbidden to date each other, and a concealed relationship is deemed dishonourable and a breach of the honour code, so when discovered, as they invariably are, both parties are dismissed from the Academy. That's about the equivalent of a dishonourable discharge."

"After the Academy, I went on to flight school, qualified as a pilot on F-14s. I had a few fairly meaningless and random encounters at Pensacola, mostly with aviation groupies. They're a strange breed of woman, who seemed to get their kicks from a never-ending succession of short term and very physical relationships with each batch of student aviators and RIOs that make it through flight training."

"Then came operational conversion training at Oceana, and then a posting to a squadron, in my case on the Seahawk. I thought I was good, in fact I thought I was more than good, I thought I was the hottest pilot ever to strap on an airplane. And I guess I was pretty good; they sent me to Miramar, to the Navy fighter pilot school, Top Gun. If I was a pain in the ass before I went there I was insufferable when I graduated Top Gun at the top of my class."

Harm now took what could only be described as a gulp wine, and topped up his glass. "Then, well then, I screwed the pooch. I made a bad landing, in fact it was a ramp strike, that's… Navy speak for a crash onto the deck of an aircraft carrier. My RIO punched us out too late and too low, I slammed into the deck before my main chute was fully deployed, Mace my RIO wasn't so lucky. I'm told that a freak of thermodynamics took hold of his chute and sucked him into the middle of the fireball our Tomcat had turned into."

Gill gasped at the vivid image Harm had drawn, but otherwise remained silent as Harm continued his story in a voice that had become a flat monotone.

"I spent months in rehab, learning to walk again, I did a pretty thorough job smashing everything below my waistline: pelvis, legs, all held together now by screws, pins and plates. Most of my rehab and hospital leave was spent at Grams farm up in Belleville in Pennsylvania, and when Diane heard the scuttlebutt, she reserved her commission, and came up to help me through the bad times. And there were some very bad times."

"Who was Diane?" Gill prompted.

Harm looked vaguely surprised, but he took the opportunity to add a little more wine to Gill's glass while he put his thoughts in order. "Didn't I tell you? Diane was a member of the four Musketeers, as we like to call ourselves, but apparently other midshipmen at the Academy prefer to think of us as the gang of four. There was Diane, Jack Keeter, Sturgis Turner, and me, and a sort of satellite, Luke Pendry. We were all friends, but the four of us…" Harm shook his head in a fond memory.

"That's some friendship, to reserve a commission to help out an injured friend," Gill interjected in some admiration.

"Yeah, but to be honest, by that stage, Diane and I were moving past the friendship thing. We been forced to remain friends at the Academy, neither of us wanted to be dismissed, particularly as we were so young that we weren't even sure if we were going to be in a relationship, let alone becoming a serious one. But she came up to Gram's farm, and she teased me, scolded me, and even shamed me into completing my rehab, and even nagged me into restoring my dad's old Stearman biplane. The rehab and the physical therapy got me back on my feet, and even through the medical review board, who allowed to stay in the Navy, which was not a bad result for a guy who a few months earlier had doubted whether he'd ever be able to walk again. But it was rebuilding the Stearman, that was my occupational therapy, and settled me down mentally. So when I appeared in front of the flight investigation board, I was able to hear with a fair degree of equanimity that due to an eye infection, which had led to night blindness and was the cause of my ramp strike, that my flying days were over."

Gill looked at him with troubled eyes, Harm had promised her a full confession and it certainly sounded like that was what she was getting, but she was getting worried too, as Harm's voice became flatter, more monotone, even deader, she felt was the right description.

"But that wasn't the end of your career, obviously," she interjected, "So, how come you transferred from being a top gun pilot to becoming a top gun lawyer?"

Harm grinned, somewhat mirthlessly, "Yes, that's the next chapter in the life and times of Harmon Rabb, but if we are to turn the page, then we will need more wine! I'm not really sure I can tell you this while I'm sober, and I'm not really sure you would want to hear it while you're sober!"


	27. Chapter 27

**27**

Julia handed her credit card to the young receptionist and watched as he swiped it through his computer terminal.

"Thank you, Ms Martinez, that's fine…" He handed her a slim, card folder printed with the hotel's name above the print on the front of the hotel, "Your card key and a room service breakfast card, if you should want it. You are in room two zero four, that is on the second floor, overlooking the stable yard." He grinned at the slightly startled expression on Julia's face, "No, we don't have horses anymore, but the name stuck." His soft Wiltshire accent making it seem as if he was laughing at himself and at the hotel's conceit in keeping a name that was nearly 100 years out of date.

Julia couldn't help herself from smiling back, although she'd only stayed here once before she had enjoyed her stay, there was something quintessentially English about it, so… relaxed, laid-back. She tucked the folder into her jacket pocket and bent to pick up her sea-bag.

"I'll take that, Miss," a smiling and very familiar voice said from behind her.

Julia spun around, "Johnny!" she squealed, and that was all she had time to say before her hands were grasped in his and she stepped into his arms, raising her face to his.

It must have been nearly a full minute later that, still holding hands they broke apart for want of air, "Wow," Julia said quietly, "did you miss me, soldier?"

"Well… Just a little," Johnny confessed, and then both he and Julia burst out laughing at his obvious falsehood. And they were still grinning at each other when they remembered where they were and looked around to see the receptionist grinning even more broadly, but indulgently, than they were.

Johnny shook his head," I reckon this is just about the time when somebody starts yelling, 'get a room', but since we've both already got one, I say we should beat a hasty, but dignified retreat."

Julia looked at him gravely, but with her eyes dancing, "I agree!"

With a chuckle Johnny bent and retrieved Julia's sea-bag, and with that over one shoulder and their arms around each other's waist, they strolled off towards the stairs.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Gill stayed on the couch while Harm levered himself to his feet and went into the kitchen, returning a couple of minutes the fresh, newly opened bottle of wine. He re-took his seat and sloshed a generous measure of the wine into his glass, and then in response to Gill's nod, topped up her glass too.

Gill didn't really want any more wine, and was slightly worried at how fast Harm was drinking his, but she figured that a show of complacence might encourage him to be more open with her that he had been before.

Once he finished settling himself back into his corner of the couch, Harm mused, "Now, where was I…?"

"I think you were just about to tell me how you became a Navy lawyer," Gill said, picking up her glass of wine.

"Yeah… Well, it's a little… Well, complicated," Harm said with furrowed brow. "I don't know how the Royal Navy, or even the British Army handle these sort of things, but after any mishap involving an aircraft, there is a flight mishap investigation board, especially when the mishap involves a fatality and the loss of a forty million dollar jet. It seems that as far as the board is concerned the first thing they look at is pilot error, so once they told me that the board was being convened, I applied for legal assistance to JAG, and the JAG officer assigned to my case pulled out all the stops, had my eyes checked by an independent ophthalmologist, and presented my case to the board that my night vision had been affected by a virus I'd picked up on shore leave in Italy. It was the end of my flying career, and I needed to re-qualify in another field; the JAG had helped me so much I figured that I'd like to help other people in the same way. So… In return for signing my soul over to the Navy, they sent me to law school and NJS – that's the Navy Justice School, and I changed my designator and spent the next few years trying and defending courts martial, before I picked up a PCS to JAG HQ in DC."

Harm fell silent, and reached for his wine glass, but to Gill's silent surprise he barely seemed to wet his lips with its contents before he put it back on the table. "My first year at JAG was a learning curve. Sure, I had litigation experience, and a pretty good track record otherwise I wouldn't have been tapped for JAG, but attorneys at JAG are investigative attorneys, a bit like assistant and deputy DA's in civilian life, with much more responsibility for investigating as well as prosecuting and defending crimes. So I was assigned a partner, and off we set investigating and prosecuting and defending. Then as is the nature of life in the military, my partner was processed out and replaced, and then in the fullness of time so was her successor."

Again Harm reached for his wine but this time he did take a sip before replacing it on the coffee table. "But our last case before my second partner left… Yeah, that… that was... difficult..." He took another sip of wine. "We were detailed off to investigate the murder of a female officer at Norfolk, that's about a three-hour drive from DC, given clear roads. Anyway, we got there just as the crime scene guys were cleaning up, the body had been bagged and was on a gurney waiting for transport. I… I… uh… as part of getting a full picture, unzipped the bag." He swallowed, "it was Diane."

Gill gasped, "Oh, Harm… Not Diane from the Academy, the... the one who..."

Harm looked up for the first time in many minutes, and even now, years after the events he was narrating, Gill could see the bleakness in his eyes. "Yes, that Diane. If I'd had any sense, I would have excused myself from the investigation, and I should have, but as it was, I got all fired up and it didn't help that the NCIS agent in charge of the case was probably the biggest jerk I've ever met. I guess we both took one look at each other and decided we just didn't like each other. It was a peculiar case, there were false leads everywhere, I ended up losing control while I followed up one lead and very nearly scuppered my career by punching out a suspect, in a dockside diner crowded with Navy personnel, both commissioned and enlisted. It didn't help that the officer I hit was later found in his cabin with a nine millimetre by his hand and a hole in his head, and a suicide note saying that he was the one who had killed Diane. Turned out that couldn't have been him, and then the NCIS agent claimed to have found the murder weapon with my prints on it. I was arrested. Fortunately my partner alibied me out, but by the time the dust has settled the trail had gone cold, the agent had been disciplined, but the case was marked unsolved and put with other cold cases."

Harm took another barely tasted sip of his wine, and flashed a sardonic grin across to Gill. "That's when I began to get a reputation for letting my emotions take charge."

Gill took a sip from her own glass, and managed a sympathetic smile at Harm even while she was mentally shaking her head, wondering how anybody could believe the rigidly controlled man sharing the couch with her was over-emotional. Becoming conscious that he was looking at with a question in his eyes she said, "Please go on."

Harm looked at her dubiously, "Are you sure you want to hear the rest, because this is where I start to make a real mess of my life, and although I never meant to, I hurt other people too."

Gill looked at him consideringly, and darted a glance at his glass, where she saw to her surprise that the level of wine in it had hardly changed since he had poured for them both. "Yes, I want to hear."

'It may not make pleasant listening for me,' she thought, 'but I'm getting the feeling that he's never told this much to anyone before; it might just be doing him some good.'

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Jen cast a satisfied eye over the apartment. She and Victor had worked well together, they had also worked hard. True, she didn't have much in the way of possessions, not like even her last apartment in DC, and certainly not even half the amount of what she had later termed clutter from her days in the loft apartment next door to the commander – no, now the captain. Although she had toyed with the idea of getting someone to share, the thought of having her own private space after so many years of sharing was appealing and besides, if all went well, in a couple of months she could always invite Mattie to come and spend the odd weekend with her.

But now… A huge grin spread over her face, now, she was about to try that fantastic shower! Stepping into the bathroom she swiftly undressed and stepped into the shower stall, revelling in the sheer force of the water as it pounded her head and back. She'd made the decision to wash her hair this evening, in order to save time in the morning, so that she would be ready to go the second Victor knocked on the door. Another smile across the face, he'd been so good, so helpful, he'd saved her almost a full weekend of traipsing backwards and forwards between Northolt and Stanmore. And he had such wonderful eyes, and he was really sweet. From the age of fourteen, Jennifer Coates had been no stranger to the way some men looked at her, nor to their expectations of her just because she had a generous figure. But Victor Galindez had looked her in the eye, and had shown no sign of expecting anything from her other than her company… And, for the moment, despite the fact that she had nearly surrendered to an urge to kiss him goodnight, that was just the way she wanted it.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

"No, no thanks, I've had enough for this evening," Julia smiled as Johnny offered to return to the bar and get her another drink. Johnny nodded and drained the last mouthful of beer from his glass.

It had been a quiet evening, after dinner in the hotel restaurant the young couple had chosen the quiet and comfort of the saloon bar over the livelier atmosphere of the public bar, and had spent the evening in quiet conversation after Julia had shown Johnny the results of their last weekend's excursions to Richmond Park and Longleat, including a shot of Johnny, showing him in half profile, a shot Julia declared was her favourite one of the weekend and a photograph that Johnny hadn't even been aware she had taken. Now, gathering up the photograph envelopes Julia and Johnny by mutual, tacit consent left their empty glasses on the corner table in the bar, and slipping their arms around each other's waist crossed the bar room towards the door and the stairs that led up to the hotel rooms. As they reached the top of the stairs Julia leaned her cheek against Johnny's upper arm, only raising her head and then slipping her arm from around his waist when he guided her to a gentle halt at her bedroom door

"Good night, sweetheart," he murmured, once she had unlocked the room, lowering his face to hers as she raised her face his.

Julia laced her fingers together at the back of Johnny's neck as they kissed in front of her open door, but then they broke the kiss she let her hands slide down the length of his arms and two she held both of his hands in hers. "Not good night, Johnny," she said as she stepped backwards into the room tugging him with her.

Johnny's mouth when suddenly dry, and he became conscious of his heart pounding in his chest. He looked straight into Julia's eyes,"Are you quite, quite sure about this…?" He asked.

Julia swallowed and returned his look steadily, "Yes, Johnny, yes, I'm sure." She stepped back into his arms, wondering at the sensations he evoked in her as her hands sculpted the planes of muscle on his back, even as he deepened their kiss

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

"About six months after Diane's death, I got a new partner." Harm had fallen silent for so long that Gill was beginning to think that he wasn't going to continue with his history, but then he had taken a huge breath taken a huge breath.

"It was another female officer, but this time, she was a Major in the Marines. I was introduced to her by our CO in the White House Rose Garden – we'd been attending a medal ceremony there. But that wasn't the important thing... She was the spitting image of Diane, could have been her sister, her twin sister. I was totally stunned, and just stood staring, must have been for ages before I finally gathered my wits and managed to say something coherent."

Harm gave a little self-deprecating shrug. "We didn't have much time to adjust to each other, to get used to each other as we were handed our first case on the spot, and the next thing I knew we were in working dress in the middle of Arizona, clear across the country."

"That must have been hard for you," Gill said softly.

"Oh yeah, looking back now, well, I was so conflicted. I was just about getting over Diane's death and then I was partnered with her doppelgänger. Of course I was attracted to her, physically. with maybe a slight difference in the shade of hair and in the timbre of the voice the two women were identical. Maybe for as long as six months I couldn't look at Mac without seeing Diane."

'Mac!' Gill thought, 'I've heard _that_ name before!'

"Yeah, for a while I was pretty conflicted, I couldn't tell if I was attracted to her because she was Mac or because she looked like Diane. As I got to know her better, so she became less Diane-like, she could be funny, compassionate, understanding. Of course she was beautiful, Diane was, so she had to be, but in so many ways she was so totally different to Diane." Harm gave a chuckle, that Gill couldn't help feeling was rueful somehow.

"She had the most incredible metabolism, the crap she used to eat – probably still does – and never seem to put on an ounce… She seemed to have this internal body clock thing going for her, always let her know when it was time to eat… At times her constant mantra seemed to be 'I'm hungry'…"

"Ah! Is she the reason you keep asking me if I'm a Marine?" Gill asked with a smile.

Harm gave a sheepish grin in return, "Yeah, I guess so. Sometimes when you say that, there's a certain inflection in your voice that makes it almost sound as if Mac was saying it."

"How long were you two together?"

"We were partners for about nine years, on and off." Harm replied.

Gill gave an impatient shake of her head, "No, that's not what I meant. Not how long did you work together, but how long were you together, as a couple."

"We never were," Harm said regretfully.

Gill was astonished, "You weren't? Why ever not? The... the... the... the way you talk about her, the way that almost everything in your life seems to be referenced by her. You said she was attractive, and that you were attracted to her, and you're not so bad looking, even now."

Harm grimaced, "This is where it gets ugly, and I come off looking like an asshole at times. First off, I told myself that Navy regulations would crucify us. We worked together, in the same chain of command and that at the first hint of an 'improper' relationship between us would see one or both of us transferred out of DC so fast it would be unbelievable, one of us probably to Adak and the other to Garcia Hernandez. But that was bullshit; I don't know who I was lying to, mostly myself I guess. Tell the truth by the time I realised just how much Mac meant to me, I was so scared that telling her how I really felt would risk losing her friendship and by that time her friendship was really important, so important that I wasn't willing to risk it, not even for the chance of love. So much for the bold aviator, eh?" This time Harm's grin was bitter and twisted.

Gill shook her head emphatically, "No, that's not cowardice, but self-preservation. You've just told me that you felt battered by Diane's death. Why would you risk getting hurt all over again? You wouldn't!"

It was Harm's turn to shake his head, "Nope, that kite won't fly. By this time I'd figured out that although they may have looked like each other Diane and Mac were two totally different people. I doubt that Mac would have reserved her commission to help me get literally back on my feet after my ramp strike; but then again Diane would never have risked her own career trying to prevent me from sinking mine, nor would she have followed me to Russia – twice."

"You've been to Russia?" Gill gasped.

"Harm nodded, "But just the two times."

"But, how… when… why?" Gill stammered.

"Well… I told you about my dad getting shot down…" Gill nodded and Harm grinned mirthlessly before he continued "Okay... During the course of an investigation we stumbled across a book, a notebook which seemed to contain a list of US POWs who had been shipped to Russia by the North Vietnamese…"

Harm's voice took on that dull, monotone note as he recounted in as much detail as he could remember of his search for further clues to his father's fate, his arrest and court-martial for murder and his subsequent trip to Russia as part of his search for his father, only briefly becoming animated as he described Mac's unexpected joining of him in the airplane, and then becoming almost choked with remembered grief as he recounted hearing of his father's death and subsequent burial in an unmarked grave deep in the Russian Taiga.

Gill heard him out with growing amazement. She believed every word he said, but what she found difficult to grasp was that Harm thought at that time, and after all that she had done, that Mac was still just a 'friend'.

"After all that, all she did for you throughout the trial, and then following you to Russia you thought she was still a friend? I'm surprised she didn't give up on you permanently on the spot!"

"It wasn't that easy… She was involved with this other guy at the time… And for some time afterwards."

Harm debated whether or not he should tell Gill, but he had decided that honesty was the only policy. "Mac was, and still is, a recovering alcoholic. She dried out when she was about nineteen, so the time I'm talking about she'd been sober for about twelve, maybe thirteen years. And when we came back from Russia she was as far as I was concerned still off-limits, she was still seeing Dalton, and shortly afterwards it seemed that I was right in my judgement, that her feelings for him ran deep. He was shot and killed in an apparent car-jacking gone wrong, and for the only time I knew Mac she fell off the wagon. How was I supposed to compete with that?"

Gill groaned silently. Even in the short time she had known Harm, she had come to understand that actions spoke louder than words to him, and for Mac to abandon so many years of sobriety… Harm must have felt that was proof enough of Mac's love for the hitherto unmentioned Dalton. "But afterwards?"

"I figured I'd give her time, time to get over Dalton, time to get over the heartbreak… And there was something else…" Harm took a further deep breath and glanced at his wine glass, and for a second it looked as if he was about to reach for it, but then changed his mind. "Dalton wasn't killed by a car-jacker, but by a cop who was stalking Mac, completely freaked her out and ended up kidnapping her. It took a while for her to get her balance back… I just figured she needed the extra time…"

"Anyway," Harm resumed, "although she was free in that one sense, we were still both bound by Navy regs, and by my fears… And of course we then became ridiculously busy, investigating incidents in Japan and Italy as well as the USA. Then just as it seemed that Providence was finally on our side, and life was beginning to settle down, somebody, somewhere threw us a curveball. Turned out, way out in left field, that Mac was married, although separated, but not legally. Her husband turned up out of the blue, demanding money to keep his mouth shut and sign the divorce papers. Mac turned to her old CO for help, and the two of them went to pay off the husband. He drew a gun there was a scuffle the gun went off in the husband was killed Mac and her former CO were arrested and charged with murder. I defended her in her court-martial and the discovery of a previously unknown witness proved her innocent. But it came out during testimony that years before Mac had had an affair with her former CO, and that was one of the things that her husband threatened to go public with...!"

"That must have been against regulations!" Gill exclaimed.

"Yeah, it was, but the statute of limitations had run out on that, but Mac perjured herself during the trial, trying to protect her old CO. I tried not to be judgemental, but the whole experience hit me like a slap in the face. I'd worked with the woman for three years by then, believing she was single, and all the time it turned out that she was a liar, a serial adulterer, and now a perjurer. I had to step back, and re-evaluate my feelings towards her. I was some kind of fool I guess; despite all I still fancied myself in love with her. But even so, even after all that I still couldn't say anything to her.

"I had my eyes checked, by a new ophthalmologist, and the results were that all those years ago I had been mis-diagnosed, my so-called night blindness was due to retinal scarring, and could be reversed by some simple, painless, laser surgery. I won't say I jumped at the chance; I had a lot of thinking to do, I had to weigh the loss of my legal career against the chance of resuming my aviator's career, but the extra thumb on the scales was that if I was no longer in the same chain of command as Mac, I could then make my feelings known to her without having to worry about running afoul of the fraternisation regulations. But when I broached the subject, she kinda brushed me off with a 'you must do what you think best'. Admittedly, she was mired down in her own personal problems, a disciplinary hearing over the perjury, news of her father's dying; I could have picked a better time, but I remember feeling hurt at that time that she couldn't summon up even a scrap of interest in something that was so important to me. So I had my eyes fixed, and against advice from my CO I applied to have my designator changed back to that of an aviator, and went back to sea, back to flying."

"But, you're back as an attorney now, and I've a feeling you're flying career didn't last very long." Gill said softly.

"No, it didn't."

"What happened?" Gill asked quietly.

Harm gave a snort of wry amusement, "Mac happened, of course. One of the pilots in my squadron got himself court-martialed for negligent homicide, and asked for me to defend him. JAG sent out Mac to prosecute a shipboard court-martial. Naturally, I was delighted to see her again, until she stripped off her flight vest, to show that her bronze Major's oak leaves had been replaced by silver ones, she'd been promoted to Lieutenant Colonel, and outranked me. And she let me know. The first name terms, and vanished, was all Commander and Colonel, ma'am. Anyway, I won the case and my client was acquitted, although the judge directed that he face a fleet aviation investigation board to determine his future career. I declined to represent him on that one. The next day, Mac headed back for DC, and the CAG – that's the Commander Air Wing – advised me to return to the law, I'd missed too many years in the air, and didn't have enough hours, hadn't got enough traps. In his words I was running out of sky. It took some time, but the paperwork went through, my designator was changed back to JAG, and I headed back to DC, but at least this time when I stopped flying it was my decision."

Gill frowned, "But you just said that the commander had advised you to give up your flying."

"Yeah, he did. He advised me, he didn't order me. I decided that he was right. I was in a career dead-end and would be competing for the same jobs, with pilots ten years younger than myself, and naval aviation is a young man's game, and I discovered that by this time I loved the law as much as I loved flying So this time, I got out of my own free will."

"And I'm guessing that even when you went back to Washington, it still wasn't all plain sailing between you and Mac?"

"Not even!" Harm said bitterly, "it was the same issue that it had been on the Patrick Henry, Commander this, Colonel that, it seemed that Harm and Mac had disappeared forever. Even when I got my third ring, she seemed to delight in reminding me that she had some three months seniority over me, and then the Admiral made her his chief of staff. Don't get me wrong, I didn't begrudge her promotions, either of them. I was happy for her, I just wish that she could have been bothered to tell me about her step in rank it… it is a major promotion – no pun intended – and it's the sort of good news that I would have wanted to share with my friends, especially one I considered my best friend, so on top of the court-martial and all that came out of it, it felt like betrayal heaped on betrayal."

This time Harm did take a sip of his wine before he continued, "Not that it was all Mac's fault, I didn't handle it well either, I pokered up. I became stiff, and… yeah… I pulled back. Hey, I might be as dumb as a bag of rocks but I soon figured out that banging my head against a brick wall just hurt my head."

'And your heart,' Gill thought, but just asked,"But that was all some time ago, wasn't it, Harm?" as she too took a sip of wine.

"Oh yeah, that wasn't the end of it. No, that just about brings us up to the five-year mark, about halfway through the sad sorry saga of the non-existent Harm and Mac, the 'us' that would never be!" Harm said bitterly.

"To make sense of what happened next, I'm going to have to go back to before Mac's court-martial, and introduce the one man who really screwed us up. Well, that's if you don't include me, because I managed pretty well even without Bugme!"

Gill couldn't help herself, she giggled, "Bugme? Oh, Harm, I'm sorry, I know this isn't supposed to be funny, but honestly some of your American names…"

Harm managed to respond with a genuine grin of his own, "I know exactly what you mean, but in this case you missed the target by a good country mile. Bugme isn't his real name, it was Brumby, but, and I don't know why, I took an instant disliking to him the second I set my eyes on him. And, he wasn't American, he was a Lieutenant Commander in the Australian Navy's equivalent of the JAG Corps. I disliked him personally and I disliked him professionally. During Mac's court-martial – a joint court-martial with her former CO – Brumby was detailed to act as his defence attorney. In a case like that defence attorneys are supposed to be operating in tandem, but then halfway through the trial, he resorted to a tactic that resulted in him getting his ass chewed off by the JAG, he tried to switch all the blame on to Mac, and trotted out in open court all her dirty laundry, accusing her of deliberately murdering her husband so that her adultery with John Farrell, her old commander, and Dalton wouldn't come to light."

Gill shook her head, "But all he was trying to do was to defend his own client. How can that be unethical?"

Harm shook his head, "Firstly because he didn't discuss it with co-counsel, in other words me, neither did he discuss it with his client, who had a sense of humour failure with his attorney in open court. But that wasn't the worst of it, from my point of view. Maybe I should have seen it as a warning, that something… I dunno… Dark? Was buried somewhere in Mac's psyche. First, she slapped his face in the middle of the parking lot at JAG HQ after he tried to excuse himself by saying that he hadn't meant anything personal was just trying to do his job. But then after the trial was over, and in front of me, he invited her out to dinner."

Harm paused to barely wetting his lips with his wine before he added in a tone of remembered bemusement, "And she accepted. I remember staring at her, totally stunned, and saying, 'The men you pick'!"

Gill gaped at him open-mouthed, "You cannot be serious! The man paraded all her sexual indiscretions in open court, basically branded her a slut, tried to get her convicted of murder, and then invited her out for dinner? And she accepted? And you didn't read any warning signs in that?"

Harm grinned as Gill's voice took on an edge of indignation mingled with disbelief. "Like I said, I was as dumb as a bag of rocks! And once again, she was showing interest in another man I stepped back. They dated for a while I think, then he was called back to Australia, this was about the time of the Australian intervention in East Timor. So off he went, and I watched him go and I thought good riddance."

"But what happened next led me to the conclusion that the gods are a bunch of senile ancients get their kicks from making human lives miserable. A cold case surfaced, a fight that had ended in a stabbing and a death in Australia… Another, more junior, attorney, Bud Roberts and myself were sent to defend the American sailor accused of murdering an Australian sailor, and our liaison with the Australian naval justice service was, yes you guessed, Lieutenant Commander Michael Brumby."

Harm frowned at his wine glass, and then at the clock, "It's getting late, what say we continue this tomorrow?"

Gill bit her bottom lip, "This all sounds terribly gloomy and angst ridden, so unless it's too difficult for you, I'd rather hear about it all tonight so you can put it all behind you and we can have the rest of the weekend."

Harm nodded, "Probably a good call, but I seem to have talked myself out of the mood for wine, coffee?"

Gill smiled, "Yes, thanks. That would be good."

She relaxed back into the embrace of the couch as Harm stood and walked towards the kitchen. She was finding it hard to understand how a woman, any woman, could not or would not see and respond to the devotion and… and yes, the dogged fidelity of the man who had taken so many slaps in the face and yet still remained there for her. Okay, she was only hearing one side of the story, but it seemed to her that Harm was still finding mental excuses for Mac, and although he was trying to carry off an air of insouciance, there were flashes of bitterness showing through, revealing how much he had been hurt.


	28. Chapter 28

**28**

When a coffee-laden Harm returned to the lounge, Gill was sitting in the same place and at the same position as when he left. He cast an anxious look at her face but found it impossible to tell what, if anything she was thinking. But as she caught sight of him, she smiled warmly and as he placed the tray on the coffee table she murmured, "Thank you."

'At least she hasn't run screaming from the house,' Harm thought as he busied himself pouring the coffee, 'but I wish she would give some kind of sign as to what she's thinking…"

Gill covered the interval while Harm sat down by taking a sip of her coffee. "You were just about to tell me about Australia?" She prompted gently.

Harm replaced his cup on the saucer, and ran a hand through his hair. Straightening up, he looked Gill in the face "God that was such a complete clusterf..." He broke off in dismay uneasily aware that his ears at least had flamed red, "Oh, God… I'm so sorry…"

Gill laughed, "Oh, don't be… I've heard the expression before, and it's such a perfect description! And besides I've heard much worse on the Gun Park, especially when Timm's dropped the breech block on his foot!"

Harm smiled his recognition of her attempt to gloss over his faux pas, but resolving at a later date to learn more of that little episode. He took another sip of his coffee, "the whole Australian case was a nightmare from start to finish. Two sailors, back in the days of the Vietnam war, one Australian one American got into a fight and the American stabbed and killed the Australian sailor, then stole his identity and disappeared into the bush with the woman over whom the fight had started. Both sailors were marked as UA by their respective navies, and eventually the Australian Navy wrote their man off as a deserter.

"Years later he was arrested as a deserter, and in order to avoid trial by the Australian authorities revealed his true identity. And then the story of the fight came out and he was charged with the murder. In the meantime the body had to be exhumed and returned to his family in the states – bear in mind that the identity switch hadn't yet been discovered. So, as Bud and I were defending the case, Mac came over to Australia to escort the body home, and with her came the Admiral.

Bud and I were busy with preparation of the case so Brumby volunteered to show Mac around, and somehow or other they ended up on a beach, where the women were topless, and that's where Bud and I discovered them, with Mac topless, but holding a magazine to cover herself from our view.. Needless to say relations between Mac and myself took a nosedive. Anyway, in an attempt to get things back onto more even footing we went out for dinner, and included a ferry ride across Sydney Harbour. That's when I think I made the biggest single mistake with Mac. Remember, she had just spent the afternoon topless with another man, then she turned around on that very same day and she propositioned me. I didn't react too well, I had these thoughts about her being an adulteress, about her flaunting herself in front of Brumby… I thought she was proposing a fling while we're away from Washington, while we were some-place where we were pretty well anonymous, on top of that I was still trying to cope with the after-effects of discovering my dad's death, my return from flying, and I wasn't ready to be in a permanent relationship, particularly not with Mac when I was feeling so conflicted over my feelings about her, but I tried to be diplomatic and I said I wanted a relationship with her but not yet. She heard 'no' and turned to Brumby. Two days later we cleared up the case and were ready to fly back to the states she almost missed movement, but turned up at the airport in the nick of time with Brumby, having evidently just got out of his bed, wearing a damn great vulgar diamond ring, albeit on her right hand, as if she thought that made a difference. Not to me. She was wearing another man's ring, so she was totally off-limits, but it seemed she didn't get that and it transpired years later that it was her attempt to make me jealous."

Gill's expression was now one of incredulity, "How old was she? Seventeen?" she asked scornfully.

Harm gave a mirthless grin, "Well, let's just say that neither of us acted in a very mature manner, and leave it at that. As it happened, over the next few months we started to work our way back towards a more friendly working relationship, until the surface warfare ball. That's one of the biggest navy social events in the Washington calendar. We showed up, and we were just about to go in when that damned Australian spoke up from behind us, saying he'd resigned his commission and had come to the states to be with the woman he loved.

"Then came Christmas, Mac shipped the damned ring from her right to her left hand, but still there was no talk of a wedding day until May. When it was announced at very short notice that the big day was set. Unfortunately it was set for the same weekend as my carrier deck landing qualifications had been arranged. That was the cause of another fight between Mac and myself and I ended up storming into the elevator and holding the door open just long enough to say to her that if she really needed me at her wedding then perhaps she ought to consider she was marrying the wrong man. That was about the closest I ever came to telling her how I felt.

"But you've changed," Gill commented, "you've been much more open than that with me, and you've known me for much less time."

Harm felt his ear tips grow warm again, "Umm... That's all due to Mattie, and we'll come to her soon, well, soonish," he amended before he took another mouthful of coffee, pulling a face at how cold it had gotten, and then pushed it to one side in disgust.

"Anyway, I dished up my quals in almost record time and persuaded the CAG and the skipper to let me ferry one of their Tomcats back to Andrews, before it was flown on to Grumman – the manufacturers - for retrofitting. The Tomcat is a two seater, the pilot and the radar intercept officer. My RIO was an old friend of mine, Beth Hawkes, Skates, who had been my back seater while I was back with a Squadron. We flew into one of the biggest and most violent storms to hit the mid-Atlantic region ever. We had an oxygen malfunction, so we couldn't climb above the storm, and had to try get through it. We were hit by lightning and the controls wouldn't respond, so we had no other option but to eject. We came down in the Atlantic in the middle of the storm. We were afloat and adrift for hours until we were picked up."

Gill could see that Harm was almost reliving that incident as he spoke of it, once again his voice had become a flat monotone,

So although her heart lurched, her "Dear God," was an almost silent whisper.

I was supposed to have been back that night for the wedding rehearsal dinner, but when the skipper on the Henry reported my loss, as he was bound to, to my boss, who was at the dinner, then apparently things ground to a halt. I don't know what happened at the dinner, or who said what to anyone, if anyone did say anything, but when I was airlifted from the carrier to Bethesda Hospital just outside DC, the wedding had been postponed.

"By the time I was discharged from hospital on convalescent leave, things had come to a head between Mac and Brumby. He'd call off the wedding, permanently, took a flight home, then we understand he reinstated his commission. I told Mac to come and see me, so we could talk about where we were and where if anywhere we could be going. Unfortunately she was beaten to the house by my girlfriend who had just heard her father had died, so when Mac arrived she saw me comforting Renee. I didn't even know she had arrived until later. By the time I returned to duty Mac had taken a six-month TAD on one of the Marine Corps assault ships. I went there on a case, we tried to talk, things got a little heated and Mac stormed off before she heard the answer to a question she'd asked, and spent the rest of the time I was on board avoiding me."

"But that wasn't the end, was it?" Gill said.

"Not even close," Harm replied ruefully. "Even when she returned things were strained between us, we were still competitive, in so many ways, but there was a… No, I won't say malicious edge to our relationship… But the banter had become less… friendly, the rivalry in all fields was keener. Eventually we challenged each other to a race, I gave her a six minute head start," he shrugged rather shamefacedly, "I was overconfident, I knew I was a runner and that Mac was a jogger, but what I didn't know was she had been in serious training, as it was we dead heated. She asked where that left us, I said 'at the end', she countered by suggesting we make a new start, and we started working our way back towards our past friendship, then the gods dropped another huge boulder in our path.

"One of the other attorneys in the office was Lieutenant Loren Singer… To say she was the most unpopular person in the whole of JAG Corps might be an exaggeration, but not by much…"

Harm took a deep breath and embarked on the convoluted tale of Loren Singer and her pregnancy, Sergei Zhukov, and Mac being detailed to investigate the pregnancy with a view to raising conduct unbecoming charges should it prove that the unpopular Lieutenant had conceived a board ship.

"I was concerned, on two fronts. Firstly there was the chance that my brother Sergei could have been the father, and I felt… ashamed I guess, that I been such a bad older brother, let alone allowed Loren Singer to get her claws into him. But I also felt a degree of sympathy for her, regardless of who the father might turn out to be, it seemed to me that, not for the first time, Mac let her personal feelings interfere in a case. She seemed convinced right from the outset that the Lieutenant was guilty of conduct unbecoming an officer and of disobedience to regulations. She seemed to forget all about the principle of innocent until proven guilty. I was to accompany her out to the carrier to carry out a review of an on-board investigation that Loren carried out into a mishap and had raised charges against seven members, key members, of the air wing. I must admit I have a suspicion that the skipper, in raising charges against Loren, was applying a little payback. If all those members of his air wing been court-martialed the carrier could not functioned. Anyway, I asked another colleague to carry out a behind the scenes investigation back in DC to see if there was any other likely candidate for being the father of Loren's baby. Mac found out about my investigation and had a total meltdown with me, but how could I try to explain to her without dragging Sergei's name into the mix that a, I was afraid of just that and b, that I didn't think Mac was being impartial in her own investigation. In the end courts-martial were dropped on my recommendation, Loren was returned to shore duty, I went back to DC and Mac stayed on board until a new SJA could be appointed. Loren took maternity leave, and we all expected to see her back when that was up."

Harm ran both hands through his hair and looked at Gill, an expression of pleading for understanding on his face. "Then a few months later, during the spring thaw, Loren's body was found on the banks of the Potomac River. I was still desperate to keep Sergei's name out of the affair, and in doing so I managed to make myself look guilty. Then my cover – headdress to you – was found on the river bank near where the body was found. I was arrested and charged with her murder."

"Idiots!" Gill erupted. "Harm I haven't known you very long but even I can tell you wouldn't commit murder just to cover up your brother's illegitimate child!"

Harm rewarded Gill's outburst with a wintry smile, "You're showing more faith in me than my superiors did, and my colleagues did, even the Admiral and Mac asked me if I was guilty. And for some reason I was accounted a flight risk and put in pre-trial confinement, I wasn't allowed to choose my own attorney, and all JAG personnel were ordered to break contact with me."

"I was very nearly convicted and it was a last-minute review of the evidence that saved my neck and proved that I had been framed by another officer. But the experience left me feeling pretty shaken, and resentful at being abandoned, and mistrustful of my command and of my colleagues. Then I had only been back at work short while and Mac and I still weren't really speaking. I know that orders or no orders if anybody else from JAG had been in my situation I would have investigated, but there was no concurrent JAG or even a joint investigation, the whole thing was left to NCIS, anyway I was sitting at home feeling pretty unsettled, when Mac showed up and asks me how I was feeling, but before I could say anything she takes her coat off and damn, she looks about six months pregnant, she tells me it's a prosthetic belly and that she is due to leave for Paraguay as the supposedly diamond expert pregnant wife of an arms dealer, who is actually a CIA undercover agent – the most inept agent I've ever met. I told her I thought it was too dangerous and that she ought not to go, she accused me of being overprotective, not giving her credit be able to look after herself and only ever being interested in her when she had one foot out of the door, and before I could really reply she was gone."

Harm shook his head as if he still couldn't really believe what had happened and what was to come next. "I was convinced from the outset that the mission was going to fail, and then a few days later when they missed a check-in I knew things had gone bad. My CO wouldn't send me after them, and he wouldn't allow me to take leave, so I resigned," he said flatly.

Gill gasped she had become absorbed in his story, and although parts of it were hard to believe, she had no doubt whatsoever that he was telling the literal truth as he saw it, but to hear he had resigned in order to go and look for the woman he loved was almost unbelievable.

"I won't give you a blow by blow account of the next few days, suffice to say they were pretty rough, but in the end I managed to save Mac, although Webb, the CIA man, had been pretty badly used. But what shook me was after I got them out, was the way they spoke to each other, and then right in front of me she kissed him. I didn't tell Mac I'd resigned, and when I did she blew up, said I was an idiot having given up everything I had, when she didn't need rescuing, that she and Webb would have got out by themselves. She then proved that I hadn't got anything left by fawning all over the useless piece of CIA crap that had nearly gotten them killed. She was in full-blown gung-ho Marine mode, and I was pretty well concussed which may have affected my behaviour, anyway we argued like hell and in the end she told me pretty emphatically that there wasn't an 'us' and that there would 'never' be an us.

We barely spoke all the way back to DC, but we reported to the Admiral, Mac in order to return to duty and me to see if I could somehow be reinstated. The Admiral told me I had been a civilian for the last seventy-two hours, and then he tore me, my character and my achievements to shreds, totally belittled all my years of service, told me grow up, stop being Peter Pan the little boy who likes to fly, and that if I needed excitement go and drive a cab or wrestle alligators because he had had it with my unreliability and me letting my emotions rule me, and Mac stood there and just let him."

Gill shook her head,"No credit for saving two lives?" while she thought, 'Driven by his emotions? For God's sake he's just about the most tightly buttoned up man I've ever met! Just listening to the way he's struggling tonight has convinced me of that! His CO can't have known him at all!'

Harm shook his head, "Nope, I was told I was an adrenaline junkie, and worse I was a failed one because the head bad guy had gotten away, and that despite that we actually destroyed his arsenal which he been planning to use against US assets. I was pretty badly shaken by that episode too, so I did what comes naturally, I went flying. For the CIA, and in the meantime Mac was pursuing her relationship with the idiot spook who'd nearly got her, another former member of JAG and himself killed" he added flatly. "I should have smelt a rat, the director of the CIA was on the phone to me almost as soon as I got back to my apartment after that interview with the Admiral. As a pilot, it wasn't all that bad; I qualified on several other different types of airplane, and for just about six months I was kept really busy. Then I had the misfortune to walk straight into a TV crew at the end of the mission, with my face all over the networks I wasn't any use to the CIA any more, so they canned me. So for the second time in a year I was unemployed… So I did what comes naturally again I went flying but this time in my own plane. And for the first time in many long, long minutes Harm managed a smile. "And that's where I met Mattie, and ended up working for a fourteen-year-old, crop dusting.

'He fell silent for a little while, a slight smile on his face as he thought back over his early days with Mattie Grace. "Turns out that Mattie's mother been killed in a car wreck, and her alcoholic father had skipped town..." the smile disappeared as he told her of his mental battle over whether to accept the Admiral's offer of reinstatement, "in the end, I swallowed my pride, although I felt I could never trust him again, but I figured being back in the Navy was a better prospect for a plan I was making them being the seasonal crop duster…" The reminiscent smile returned to his face as he went on to recount his battle for legal guardianship of Mattie.

"The night before the court hearing I went to see Mac to ask her to act as a character witness for me. She managed to turn her answer to my request into a diatribe, saying I couldn't make a father because I was a lousy son because I didn't write my mom frequently enough and then tried to turn the conversation into a discussion about us, why hadn't I told her about my plans months ago instead of leaving things to the last minute. I told her that she had made sure there was no us, and that there never would be an us. Then I told her to forget it, this was too important to me for her to screw up, and that's where we left it."

Once again Gill was left speechless, and could only shake her head in bemusement. 'This Mac;' she thought. 'must be about the most self-centred person going. The guy goes to her for help and she turns it into an argument about their non-existent relationship, and she's hurt because she wasn't privy to personal information… She was military for God's sake, and one with experience in undercover operations, didn't she grasp the concept of need to know?'

"I got the biggest surprise of my life, when Mac showed up in court the next day and gave me a character reference. She said one or two things that gave me hope that perhaps she wasn't as indifferent to me as she at first seemed, and then she intervened with Mattie's father who had turned up to contest my application. And the upshot was that I got guardianship of Mattie."

Harm's smile now seemed permanently etched on his face as he reminisced, in quite a rambling way, how Mattie had moved into his life, and how her need for a female role model and Jen Coates' need for a new place to live had meshed, he found himself as Pater Familias, and Gill could see the remember the joy on his face as he recounted little details of his life with the two young women.

"Part of that life, was working to get Mattie to forgive her father, and that became much easier when we discovered that he hadn't been driving the night of the crash. And eventually, as was only proper, she went back to him. And I'll never forgive myself for allowing that."

Gill looked at him in shock as she realised that his eyes were brimming with unshed tears, and fearing the worst she asked quietly, "What happened, Harm? Her father, he didn't…?"

Harm shook his head almost angrily, "No, nothing like that, thank God, if there had been I'd have killed him myself!"

His facial expression was so bleak as he said this, that for a moment Gill felt the power and the passion of the man that he normally kept buried, and thought 'if those strong feelings could be harnessed for good… He could shift mountains!' "Go on," she invited.

The smiles were now gone, all she could see his face was pain, "We had a late cold spell this year, and the new JAG, a Marine Corps General shifted the JAG Corps conference to San Diego. I wasn't required at the conference and was left as acting CO in DC. Since Mac had spoken up for me in court, we had begun moving closer together, encouraged by Mattie; she made me understand that it wasn't enough to let your barriers down, to let someone in, to love someone, you had to let them know. You couldn't assume that some people would realise this your from your actions, and you had to have the… the guts, I suppose, to come out and say those three little words. Mattie got me to admit, to her, that I loved Mac, and had been working on me so I finally have the nerve to face my fears and tell Mac. But just as every time before, that I started to feel closer to her, she took up with another guy or so it seemed to me. And this time it was dangerous. He was a Navy JAG Lieutenant, and by act of Congress he was a gentleman, but he was also an unprincipled, unethical, attorney, and took the same path in his private life. He tried hitting on enlisted and officers alike, apparently without giving a damn about the fraternisation regulations. I didn't find out much of this until later, believe me if I'd known at the time I'd have charged him myself, particularly as one of the women seem to have fallen under his spell was Jennifer Coates, and then of course, Mac."

"But if he was a lieutenant, she was his senior, you said she'd been promoted to lieutenant colonel, she should have charged in herself!"

Harm shrugged, "It is like I said earlier, it seemed that all any other man had to do was to show interest in Mac she ran to them. But that's not the real important part of the story. It seems that I had been a good example to Mattie; she decided that she too wanted to become a Navy aviator, and I was happy to pay for her flying lessons. That afternoon she went up with her instructor in marginal conditions. The plane got caught in a snowstorm, and although they made it back to the airfield, they crashed into another plane as they landed. Both pilots were killed, and Mattie was seriously injured."

Harm had to stop in order to clear his emotion-clogged throat, and by this time his pain was making Gill's eyes prickle as well.

"I called Mac, as soon as I got to the hospital found out Mattie's condition, but she was at some sort of social function and I got the feeling she wasn't listening, I guess she was in too much of a hurry to get back to lover-boy. Once again, it was Jen Coates who stepped up to the plate. I don't think that I or Mattie could have come through those first few awful days without Jen's support. And in a way it was so right that it was Jen who had just taken over the bedside watch when Mattie's eyes finally opened and she came out of her coma.

"By this time everyone was back in San Diego and Mac realised just how grave the situation was, and became the most supportive she ever had been. Then, out of the blue, at one morning staff call, general Cresswell threw us a couple of grenades, Mac was posted to San Diego to take command of a new joint service legal office, and I was posted here as Navy force JAG Europe, both on seventy-two hours notice. Things got a bit hectic, I had already reapplied to the court for continued legal guardianship of Mattie, and had filed a petition for formal adoption, her father had fallen off the wagon and was no longer a fit parent.

"So I had to break the news to Mattie, but I promised she would never be left alone again. Jen had asked to accompany me to London, so as her commanding officer I cut her orders to detach to Blacksburg hospital where Mattie was – and I haven't heard the last of that either – but my posting couldn't be delayed, and as I said I wasn't going to leave her on her own.

"Then the evening we were due to leave, Mac came over to say goodbye. We barely been able to talk to each other where officers were 30 feet apart, and I knew despite any promises to the contrary that with 6000 miles between us whatever we had was going to wither on the vine, so I took Mattie's advice, and the bull by the horns, I told Mac I was sick of the dance we been dancing for nine years, that I loved her, that I wanted to marry her. She looked at me… I don't know how to explain how she looked at me… It was a sort of mixture of regret and horror she said, 'I can't marry you, Harm. You will always be my best friend, but I don't love you, not like I would need to for us to get married. I thought I did, but I don't.'"

Gill shuddered at the note of despair in Harm's voice as he recounted his last meeting with the woman thoughts of whom had dominated his life for nine years, "What happened then?" she asked quietly.

"She left, went to San Diego. I came here. She'd rung down the final curtain."

"And you came here, and found me. It might seem a little inadequate, but after all you've told me this evening," she took a quick glance at her watch, "and this morning, I only have one question, bearing in mind what you said when I arrived about us being friends and you wanting to move forward from there, I don't want to be... I won't be your rebound girl. Can you promise me that I'm not?"

Harm didn't hesitate, not even for a second. One at least of Mattie's lessons had sunk home, "Gill, whatever you are, whatever you, whatever we might be, and I really want that to be us together, you are not, and you never have been my rebound girl."

Gill looked at him appraisingly for long seconds before she allowed her face to relax into a smile, "in that case, I am as keen as you are to see where we lead us. But for now, you have given me a lot to think on, and it is late, so if you don't mind, I think I'll take you up on that offer of the bed."

"Of course!" Harm was instantly on his feet, a hand extended to help Gill off the couch, "I'll walk you up," he offered, "but then I need to secure down here, and do a bit of tidying up, so take all the time you need in the bathroom."

Gill took his hand, and as she stood she leaned in and kissed him gently on the mouth. "There's no need to walk me up, Harm, I can find my own way. And I promise I won't keep you waiting too long for the bathroom."

And despite his protests, Gill stuck to her guns, pausing only long enough for one additional kiss, before she bid him good night, but as she reached the door she stopped, turned and smiled before she left him alone.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

By the time Harm had poured the mostly untouched two glasses of wine down the sink, had finished tidying the kitchen and made sure the house was secure, both the bathroom and Gill's room when darkness. Harm wouldn't help but feel that Gill's kisses were somehow a goodbye

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Gill listened to the silence of the darkness, her mind whirling, she was astute enough to realise that although Harm had bent over backwards in an attempt not to place all the blame for their dealings on the absent Mac, he had taken an unnecessary share the blame on his own shoulders. She was also aware that he had erred perhaps too much on the side of justice, and in fact had made excuses for Mac when he could.

But through it all had shone his steadfastness; in the face of repeated rebuffs, in the face of her 'running to the first man who showed interest in her', and finally in the face of her ultimate rejection of him, there still remained a nucleus of loyalty to Mac, and she felt a flash of jealousy as well as a condemnation towards Mac. In comparison with that depth of attachment any woman who could throw it away with one sentence, after nine years of proof, didn't deserve it. Gill Shephard, reassured by Harm that he was not just on the rebound, made a silent promise to herself that she would be the next and last recipient of that loyalty. That somewhat jumbled thought in her mind, she rolled over onto her side, and closed her eyes.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Johnny Walker slowly blinked his eyes, suffused by a feeling that all was well with his world. As he became fully awake, so last night's events came into sharp mental focus. Propping himself on an elbow, and feeling her absence from the bed, he looked for Julia, to see her, dressed apparently only in his shirt, sitting in the elbow chair next to the window, her eyes fixed gravely on his face.

"Good morning," he tried, trying to still the anxious butterflies that had suddenly taken up residence in his stomach.

"Good morning," Julia replied in a neutral voice.

"Is there something wrong?" Johnny asked carefully.

"Why? Do you think there is?" Julia answered.

"From my point of view, yes, there is something wrong. Very wrong. I'm in here, and you are over there. And that makes me think that you think there's something wrong."

Julia summoned up a watery smile," I want… I didn't want you to wake up, with me still in bed with you, just for you to say that last night was, that we were, a mistake, and that you were sorry."

Johnny nodded, "Okay, you were right, I am sorry, I'm sorry that you were still not in bed with me when I woke up, because that means I can't kiss you, I can't hold you, and I can't whisper in your ear and tell you how very much I love you."

Julia's eyes flooded anew, "Do you really mean that?" she asked with a quaver in her voice.

"Every single syllable," Johnny said earnestly, "but if you don't believe me, why don't you come back over here, so I can show you?"

Julia stood, but hesitated, "Do you really think you can prove anything like that?"

Johnny shrugged," Honestly, I don't know. But I do know I can try to prove it, provided you're willing to give me a chance…"

"I can accept that," Julia agreed as she stepped back towards the bed, her hands going to the buttons on Johnny's shirt.


	29. Chapter 29

**29**

Gill awoke to the muted sounds of kitchen activity and the aroma of fresh-brewed coffee. It took her a second or two to remember where she was, but then a smile spread across her face and she stretched luxuriously.

Swinging her feet over the side of the bed she stood and reached for the Kimono-style dressing gown which she had draped over the back of the chair. Shrugging into the gown, she shuffled her feet into her slippers and tied the sash before gathering her hair back into a loose ponytail. Ten minutes later, having had a quick wash, she headed on down stairs to greet the day.

Pausing momentarily at the foot of the stairs to orient herself, she shrugged, grinned and told herself, 'Just smell the coffee,' and following her nose found the kitchen, where Harm had his back to the door as he whisked something in a bowl.

" Good morning, sailor," Gill said as she walked around the kitchen table towards him, and noting with a slight frown the vaguely worried expression on his face. "Something wrong?" she asked as she reached a hand to smooth his forehead, at the same time leaning in to give him a good morning kiss.

Harm returned her kiss, not only with pleasure, but also with a sense of immense relief, "No, I don't think there is anything wrong, not now."

"But there was?" she asked, pulling a chair out from the table, waited, standing with one hand on the chair-back.

Harm gave a sheepish half-grin, "I wasn't sure that you'd still be here, or even want to be here after the way I unloaded on you last night." He shrugged, "After all you got just about the full unexpurgated version of Harmon Rabb in one sitting, and it was a lot to dump on you all at once. I wouldn't have blamed you if you'd come down this morning with your bags packed, or even if you'd run screaming from the house last night"

Gill shook her head in negation smiled softly, "I don't see either of those scenarios working out the way you project them. No, when I think about it, the only way I would run out of the house, accompanied by screams or not, as the case might be, would be if you chased me away, and I don't think that's exactly what you have in mind… Or is it?"

With his mind put at ease, Harm was able to return her smile with an easy "No, that particular scenario doesn't exactly fit in with whatever plans I might have today, tomorrow, or in the far distant future. I just don't see it."

Gill's smile turned into a broad grin, "Good, now that we've settled that, what's for breakfast?"

Harm grinned back in pure pleasure, "I'm beginning to think it wasn't a Marine thing after all, I'm beginning to think it's a female thing. Which, just goes to show how slow I am on the uptake, after all I had Mattie making a clean sweep of the breakfast table every morning for ten months!"

"So, feed me!" Gill laughed.

"Patience, grasshopper and you shall be fed. Breakfast this morning is one of the _specialities_ _de la maison, _either cinnamon or blueberry pancakes with genuine Canadian maple syrup. Oh, and freshly brewed coffee. "

"Ah yes, the coffee… That's what led me to you this morning."

Harm adopted a crestfallen expression, "Oh, I thought that my scintillating personality might have had something to do with it."

Gill looked conscience-stricken, "It did, it did," she protested, and then spoiled the effect by bursting into laughter, "but the coffee was far more important!"

Harm pretended to consider her words for a few moments, but then he heaved a sigh, "Do I take it then, that madam would enjoy a cup of coffee?"

"Absolutely," Gill gurgled.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Johnny rolled over onto one elbow, gazing down on Julia she lay beside him in bed with a soft smile curving her mouth. He smoothed attend the air off her forehead and smiled in return as her smile deepened and said, "What would you like to do today?"

Julia opened her eyes looked and up sleepily at Johnny, "Given my druthers, I'd as soon stay here in bed all day."

"That idea is not without its merits," Johnny grinned, "but it won't fly. I guesstimate that we've got less than an hour before housekeeping comes to tidy the room. So…" He leaned in and dropped a soft kiss on her lips, "you need to get that sweetly rounded little butt of yours out of bed and into the shower, and then maybe we can start thinking about breakfast…"

"Are you trying to tell me that I'm all stinky and sweaty?" Julia pouted in mock indignation.

"You trying to tell me we're not?" Johnny countered.

"I guess not," Julia said, sitting up in bed and looking around for Johnny's shirt, "but by saying 'we' are you suggesting that we might conserve water by sharing the shower?"

"Was that an invitation?" Johnny leered suggestively, "because if it was, I don't think the shower is big enough for the two of us!"

"Oh well, into each life a little rain must fall," Julia grinned over her shoulder as she paused halfway to the bathroom.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

"I must admit I was a little dubious about the prospect of pancakes for breakfast," Gill smiled as she pushed her plate away from her, "but those were quite wonderful, and very filling. I have a sneaky suspicion that I'm going to have to hit the gym with a vengeance come Monday!"

"So you don't want any more?" Harm teased her.

"To eat? No, not for a good while, but I will have another coffee if it's in the pot?"

Harm stood, gathering the plates as he did so, "There's always coffee in the pot," he smiled as he turned and reached for the jug of coffee. "Why don't you take it into the lounge, and I'll join you there as soon as I've tidied up this a little?"

"I've got a better idea, why don't we both clean up and then we can both take coffee into the lounge?" Gill countered.

"No, that's not necessary…" Harm started to protest.

"You might think that," Gill said standing up, "but I happen to think differently," she cast her eye around the kitchen, "No dishwasher? Alright, you wash, and I'll dry," and stepping up to the sink next to him she nudged him out of the way with her hip.

Harm knew when to surrender to _force majeure,_ and with a smile of his own, he gave way, saying, "Never let it be said that I refused help in the kitchen… And they do say that one volunteer is better than ten pressed men!"

"Huh! Trust a sailor to bring the press-gang into it!" Gill huffed with a grin.

"Trust a Brit to recognise the reference!" Ham riposted and grinned in his turn.

Twenty minutes later with the kitchen squared away to Harm's satisfaction he and Gill, complete with mugs of fresh coffee adjourned to the lounge.

Gill sipped appreciatively at her coffee, like many British people she had become accustomed to freeze-dried instant coffee, and she liked her coffee tolerably strong – not the toxic waste that Bombardier Walker produced - but something rich but mellow at the same time. She had tried coffee in various pubs and restaurants over the years, but had come to the conclusion that nobody brewed coffee the way she liked it. It had been a pleasant surprise when almost simultaneously two competing chains of coffee houses had sprung into being, and she had eagerly tried both only to be disappointed yet again. She had mentioned her disappointment on one occasion to Colonel Mike, who had shaken his head sadly, and commiserated with her.

Gill's memory of Colonel Mike's almost blasphemous statement brought a smile to her face and coaxed a chuckle out of her.

Harm looked across the coffee table at her, an inquiring expression on his face, "Did I say, or do something dumb enough to make you laugh?" he asked.

A still smiling Gill shook her head, "No, it was nothing you said or did. I was thinking how good this coffee is, and that the reason I always order tea when I'm out is that I have never been to a pub, restaurant or café where the coffee is any good. And that applies to the two big names in the business as well." She took another sip of coffee.

"Okaay..." Harm drawled, "but I still don't see anything amusing in that memory?"

Gill put her cup down on the coaster before she answered, "No, but it was what I remember happened after that made me smile… Sue and I had been into Swindon, to the Designer Outlet – a sort of shopping mall, sells clothes by noted designers at a discount, a sort of Mecca for Sue, anyway after Sue spent hours dragging me around the various shops I finally persuaded her to take a coffee break, and we tried one of the new, chain-store coffee shops, and I was so disappointed with the quality of the coffee. When we got back to Tidworth we met up for dinner in the mess and Colonel Mike asked what had we been up to, so we told him about our day and in the course of telling the story, I remarked how disappointed I was that an American-owned company couldn't produce drinkable coffee…" Gill's eyes danced with amusement as she wound up for the punchline, "Colonel Mike, just shook his head mournfully and said, 'Based on my visits to the USA, it is an unfortunate fact, young Gillian, that while our transatlantic cousins have many sterling qualities, and have achieved many spectacular deeds, in addition to drinking their tea cold, they simply cannot brew decent coffee.'"

Harm looked vaguely offended, "I hope that wasn't aimed at me?" he asked somewhat plaintively.

Gill's mouth dropped open, "Oh… Oh no, you certainly don't fall within those parameters, it only came to mind because this coffee is exceptionally good. What's the secret?"

Harm put his own cup down and leaned back against the squabs of the couch, "It's really need to know…" He mused out loud, "but I suppose I could tell you… But then, if I did…" He paused for effect, only to have Gill steal his punchline.

"But if you did, then you'd have to kill me!"

Harm chuckled and shook his head ruefully, "I hate it when people do that. As for the coffee, most coffee available at home is Colombian, over here there's a wider choice. I have discovered a little coffee shop just off South Audley Street, where they have a huge variety of beans from all around the world. These beans are Mocha to which I've added just a very few shavings of dark chocolate, not enough to change the taste, but enough to intensify it."

While he was talking Gill had taken another deeply appreciative sip of her coffee, and closed her eyes, signifying her deep enjoyment of the drink. "So…" she said at last, thankful that Harm had given her the opening which she'd been searching, "not only are you a devastating chef, but you brewed just about the best coffee I've tasted in years. I think I'll keep you," she ended on a more serious note and she replaced her coffee cup on the coaster and sat back waiting for Harm's response.

Harriet Sims might at one time have accused Harm had been totally, sublimely, supremely oblivious, but he was not so oblivious as not to catch the change in Gill's tone of voice, nor her need for a sober response. "Are you sure about that? Even after last night, even after I explained, tried to explain, the sort of screw-up I was when it came to relationships?"

Gill chewed her bottom lip for a few seconds, but then just as Harm was becoming anxious, she spoke "When… No, let's start from the beginning, I didn't expect, not for even a second, that I was your first girlfriend. But it seems to me that none of them really meant anything to you until Diane. And I could tell last night as you were speaking, that she still holds a piece of your heart, and I'm quite happy about that. But Mac... despite what you said, I'm still not sure that you're sure that you weren't attracted to her because of her resemblance to Diane. The other women in between, they were just stop gaps, and I'm not worried about them either and I'm not worried about Mac either, while you were telling me about her, I couldn't help but remember a line from A few Good Men, when Tom Cruise's character called Demi Moore's character galactically stupid. Maybe that came to mind because that film was about US Navy lawyers, but it struck me as applying to Mac. Throughout all the lies, the hidden truths, the infidelities, slaps in the face, the rebuffs, the running away,the other men, you stuck by her, but in the end when you as good as sacrificed your career for her sake, she criticised you for it and walked straight into the arms of another man. If she couldn't see, after what, eight, nine, or more years who you are, then she didn't, doesn't and won't ever deserve you. Now, I haven't met your Mattie yet, but she strikes me as having a lot of common sense, she may be young and inexperienced but she was right about you needing to let people know that you love them, and maybe you didn't say those words to Mac during all those years is because somewhere deep inside you, you knew they weren't true... Oh, that's that's not a suggestion that you should say those words to me until you're ready and unless you mean them." Gill took another sip of her coffee, and then when she saw that Harm was about to speak she held up a hand to prevent him.

"There was a song a few years ago, a very silly song, quite unsophisticated, I'm not going to boost your ego by telling you what the title was, but there was a line in it about holding up a stagecoach in the rain. So I'll let you just think about that."

"I'll admit, I was a little concerned that when you came downstairs this morning that you might have had your bags in hand, I don't think I could ever put into words just how I felt when you kissed me good morning, and made it plain that you weren't leaving that very minute."

Gill breathed a silent sigh of relief, for a few moments the atmosphere had become tense, very tense, but Harm hadn't pushed and seemed quite content to leave the conversation where she had parked it.

Gill drained her coffee cup, with a feeling of regret that it was all gone, and putting the coffee cup down, she looked across at Harm, "So, what did you have in mind for us to do today?"

To her surprise Harm looked strangely embarrassed, "I don't want you to think that I'm taking advantage of you, but I need a huge favour."

Gill's eyes sparkled with interest, "Well, go ahead and ask, the worst I can do is say no…"

"Yeah, you could, you're the sort of person who would probably say yes, even if you didn't want to do what I ask."

Gill considered for a moment, "You might be right, but on the other hand I can be downright stubborn, awkward and… Uncooperative!"

Harm nodded, "I've no doubt you could be, but I doubt you would be."

Gill shook her head in mild exasperation, "You really are setting me up to say no, aren't you?"

"Well, although I'm giving you an out, I'm hoping you won't take it," Harm confessed.

Still with a trace of exasperation in her voice, Gill half laughed, "Oh for God's sake, just get on with it, please!"

Harm still looked slightly embarrassed, even a little uncomfortable, Gill thought, as he looked at her somewhat shamefacedly, "Would you consider, considering that you mentioned the place first, giving me a ride to Swindon?"

Gill looked at him in astonishment, "Swindon? I didn't have you down as the designer outlet type!"

"Only the one outlet today, Gill, that's the Subaru outlet," he paused for a moment and bent forwards to pick up a handful of brochures on the bottom shelf of the coffee table. "The first brochure," he thumbed through its slim pages and with a, "it's there, just north of the town in a village called Highworth…" showed her the spot on the map

Gill looked at the pamphlet in her hand, and in some surprise said, "You're buying a car? Oh, that was pretty stupid, you've just asked me for a lift to a car dealership, and handed me a brochure, of course you're buying a car!"

"It's something I've needed to do for weeks. Not only is it a waste of money to be continually renting cars, but when Mattie arrives… I have told you that she is still in a wheelchair, haven't I?"

"You have," Gill agreed, and flicking through the pamphlet she asked, "so which car?"

"The Legacy tourer, it's got a large enough cargo bed in back to take luggage and her wheelchair, and there's enough room in the doorway is for her to haul herself in and out, and it has a good enough performance to keep me happy, so I won't feel like I'm driving a Crown Victoria."

"And there's a rush to do it today because…?"

"Because the cheque has cleared, and the car is ready to be collected. The dealership is taking care of the road tax, and I've got the insurance sorted out…"

Gill blinked, "Wow, you have been busy." She looked at her watch, "it's about seventy, maybe eighty miles to Swindon, what time do they close on Saturdays?"

"Not until eighteen hundred hours," Harm replied.

Gill nodded and said airily, "Okay, we've got plenty of time then, we could take the back roads and make a leisurely drive, make it a day out of it. Or if you wanted, we could take the motorway, it's not the only way to get to Swindon, and find somewhere for lunch, maybe do a bit shopping first, after all there is that designer outlet…" It was no good, she couldn't tease him any more, but neither could she help bursting out into laughter.

"What?" Harm demanded indignantly.

"Oh, I'm sorry…" Gill said still chuckling, "but the look on your face… It was just like a five-year-old who had just been told that Christmas had been cancelled!"

"It was not!" Harm protested.

"Yes, yes it was, and I am sorry, I should have known better. In fact I do know better, I know exactly what you boys are like when you want to get your hands on a new toy!"

Harm glared at her furiously for a few seconds but then his face creased into a reluctant grin, "You, young lady, have spent way too much time around way too many men!"

"That's what comes of being in the army," Gill grinned. "Come on then, let's rinse these cups out, and give me fifteen minutes to taker a shower and then I'll give you your lift to Swindon!"

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Johnny pushed his empty coffee cup away and leaned back in his chair, "Where would you like to go, or what do want to do today?" he asked.

Julia's elbows rested inelegantly on the table as she held her coffee cup just in front of her mouth the fingertips of both hands. A smile curved her lips she replied, "This is your neck of the woods, why don't _you_ suggest something?"

Johnny gazed searchingly at her for a few seconds, "Is this some kind of test? No, on second thoughts don't answer that, I don't think I want to know!" He gazed contemplatively at Julia for a few more seconds before he spoke again, "You're from New Mexico, right?"

"Yeah," Julia said slowly and cautiously.

"Pretty rugged country isn't it, lots of scrub-land, lots of desert and all that sort of stuff?"

"Yeah,"

"But not so big on forests, huh?"

"No, not really," Julia answered, putting her now-empty cup back on its saucer and beginning to feel intrigued by this line of questioning, which seemed to her to have nothing to do with the entertainment that could be offered by a small, English town.

"H'mm… You got your ID and your driving licence with you?"

"Yeah, what are you up to Johnny Walker?" Julia asked in a mock-suspicious voice.

"And you can ride a bicycle, right?" Johnny persisted, totally ignoring for the moment Julia's question.

"Of course I can ride a bicycle, that's how… Oh, never mind! Just answer the damn question will you?"

But instead of answering Julia's question, Johnny countered with one more of his own, "You like history don't you? How would you like to see the spot where a King of England was murdered?"

"And where is that?" Julie replied, frantically trying to remember enough English history to identify the King in question, and so possibly get a clue to the murder's location.

"Ever hear of the New Forest?" Johnny asked.

Julia's forehead creased in the thought, "I… I think so…"

"It was set up as a royal hunting preserve by William the Conqueror, back in ten sixty-six, and his son, William II, William Rufus as he was called, was later shot by an arrow, at the time opinion was divided as to whether it was an accident, or murder, but the guy suspected of firing the arrow buggered off to France, or Austria, depending on which version of the story you hear."

"Okay, but what's that got to do with bicycles?"

"The new Forest still exists, it's a sprawl of heathland, pasture and woodlands, it's the home of a breed of feral ponies, wild deer and believe it or not, small herds of Highland cattle. They're the ones with huge horns and long shaggy coats! And what's more, right in the middle of the forest, there's a bicycle hire centre. Interested? It's only about an hour away."

"Interested? Hell yes, what are we waiting for?"

"You to decide whether or not we want to go there? Johnny said innocently.

"Just let me grab my camera!" Julia grinned.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Acting on the advice of the letting agent, Jen's first purchase for the new flat had been a filter jug, plus filters for what the agent had described as 'hard' water, which in a very short time could and would, unless prevented, allow 'fur' or lime scale to coat any domestic appliance that heated water: washing machines, dishwashers, kettles, all were vulnerable, but the most vulnerable were coffee filter systems, with their small diameter pipes and nozzles. There were de-scaling solutions available in most of the local food and electrical stores, but as the agent had said, "An ounce of protection was better than a pound of cure."

"What about the shower head?" Jen had asked anxiously, getting her priorities straight.

"Exactly the same, those small diameter holes in the shower head can get furred up pretty quickly, but again there are de-scaling agents available in most supermarkets and kitchen and bathroom shops."

Jen had been sceptical over the value of water filters and de-scaling agents, but the change in the taste of her first glass of filtered water had converted her. Now, the coffee filter machine was churning through its cycle, and not a moment too soon she figured. It was almost zero nine thirty hours and she had a sneaking suspicion that Victor Galindez was not the kind of guy to be even one minute adrift. She was right.

Just as the minute hand on the kitchen clock dropped onto the six, the filter machine gave its last gurgle to announce it had finished its task, and then there came a sharp triple rap on the flat door.

Jen swiftly crossed the floor, and after checking through the Judas hole she unhooked the security chain and opened the door.

Victor's "'Morning Jen," almost, but not quite, drowned out Jen's greeting.

Both stood facing each other, confused grins on their faces as they realised that not only had they'd spoken practically simultaneously, but both had dressed identically, in jeans and blue plaid lumberjack style shirts over white T-shirts, until Jen broke out into a gurgle of laughter, "Oh, come on in Victor!"

With a somewhat, and surprisingly, shy grin, Victor stepped through the door and into the flat where he was waved to one of the two chairs.

"Coffee?" Jen offered with a grin, "fresh brewed, and although I won't promise it's Marine grade, I've done what I could."

"I'm sure it will be fine," Victor said, accepting the offer.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Gill had chosen to take 'the long way around' via Oxford to Swindon, "Anything was better," she said emphatically, as they buckled themselves into their seats, "than tackling the M25 and M4 on a Saturday!"

"That bad?" Harm asked in some surprise.

"You have no idea!" Gill declared firmly and then lapsed into silence until she had negotiated the roundabout that merged with the slip-road onto the busy A40. Even then it was five or more minutes before either Ham or Gill spoke again.

"Harm, you've told me a lot about Mattie, and every time you mention her name, you light up, even just now, a few minutes ago, when we were talking about the need for a car she can get in and out of easily and that has enough boot space for her wheelchair. Please tell me if I'm crossing any boundaries, but exactly how badly off is she?"

Harm looked across at Gill and smiled softly, "You are right about one thing, every time I think of Mattie, let alone speak her name, I feel a little glow inside. I know that in the end she wanted to go back to her father try to make a family again with him, but I don't think I can ever, in light of what's happened, forgive myself for agreeing to it. As for how she is… well, as I said she is in a wheelchair, but the prognosis is good, and we're hoping that she will make a full recovery. She still has her heart set on going to the Navy Academy, but she's got a long road ahead of her but we're hoping she makes it. No, no we are not hoping, we are certain she's going to make it!

"When she was first injured, she was paralysed from the neck down, and then as the bruising and swelling around her spine decreased, she got back the use of her arms and hands. The physical therapy was brutal, and I'm told some days were better than others, which also means that some days were worse than others, but she stuck with it and made lots of progress. When I spoke to her on Wednesday evening, she said she thought she saw her toes moving when she tried to wiggle them. If that's so, that's a huge step forward for her.

"Obviously, this is way beyond my pay grade, but I've managed to get her a consult at Stoke Mandeville, that's a…"

"A nationally famous spinal injuries unit!" Gill finished for him, flashing a quick smile in return. "How did you manage that? It's normally only accessible through a referral from a consultant... uh... that's a Board Certified Attending Physician... I think..."

Harm nodded, "Yup, I believe it or not that's exactly what happened. When Mattie came back under my legal guardianship, I was able to get her examined by a friend of a friend at Bethesda, who just happens to be a board certified orthopaedic surgeon, who did his fellowship at Stoke Mandeville…"

"Proving once again, it's not what you know it's who you know!" Gill said somewhat severely.

"You disapprove?" Harm asked in some surprise.

"No, yes, oh, I don't know! It principle, yes I do disapprove, it's a form of cronyism, which I usually despise… But how can I disapprove of someone doing his utmost, using every string on his bow, to look after a child he loves?"

Harm turned his head to look at her, his gaze level and steady, "I think the same way, normally I wouldn't do anything like this, certainly not for myself, but this is for Mattie. It may not be an excuse, but it is a reason." He grinned slightly, "if it helps, just think of me being as ruthless as a momma bear looking after her only cub."

Gill broke out into laughter for a few seconds, "Oh, I'm sorry, but you just created the most absurd mental picture for me… I was trying not to see you all covered in shaggy hair roaring through the woods!"

"So my foray into… what was it you called it? Nepotism?" Harm began to ask.

"Cronyism!" Gill corrected him.

"So that hasn't put you off me at all? I did try to tell you last night that I had feet of clay." Harm finished.

Gill briefly shook her head, "You are going to have to try a lot harder than that to get rid of me!"

"Is that a threat or a challenge?" Harm demanded, with a twinkle in his eye.

Gill shot him in another brief sideways glance out of the corner of her eye, "I think it was more in the nature of a promise."

"If that's the case, it's promise to which I firmly intend to hold you!" Harm said with as much conviction as he could muster.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

"Do you want to unpack this lot now, or have lunch at first?" Victor asked.

Jen eyed the new stack of boxes with marked disfavour, "I really don't feel like unpacking right now, but if we stop work now, then I'll probably feel even less like it after lunch… So…" She heaved a huge sigh, "let's get on with it, then we can relax for the rest of the day with a clear conscience."

Victor grinned and shook his head as he bent to the nearest box, "Are you sure there aren't any slave drivers in your ancestry?"

Jen laughed as she tore open a second box, "If I had any ancestors around during those days, they'd probably have been poor white trash!"

Victor stopped work for a moment, a half dozen books cradled in his arms, "I wish you wouldn't do that," he remarked.

"Do what?" Jen asked, a puzzled lines on forehead reinforcing the puzzled tone of her voice.

"I wish you'd stop putting yourself down, that's about the third or fourth time you've disparaged yourself or your family in the last two days. You're better than that."

Jen stared at him, there was no indication of humour in his eyes, face or voice. "I guess that's because I don't think very much of my family, and I'm not very proud of the way I used to be."

"I don't think I care very much about your family, and I certainly don't care about what you used to be. I care about the woman you are." Victor asserted in a no-nonsense tone.

Jen sighed, "I think I'd best brew another pot of coffee, we need to sit down, so I can tell you all about my happy childhood with daddy dearest…"

Victor nodded, but demurred, "Okay, you go ahead and put the coffee on, I'll carry on unpacking these boxes until it's brewed."

Five minutes later saw Jen and Victor each in one of the two armchairs, and each using a now empty box as an end table on which to put their coffee mugs.

Jen took a sip of her coffee and then with a hint of her usual sunny nature said, "it's usual to begin a story at the beginning, but I'm not going to. You said you care about the way I am now, well you can blame that on Captain Rabb…"


	30. Chapter 30

**30**

"Well, it's a different start," Victor said as he leaned back in his chair, "how about a clue as to why I should blame him?"

"It goes back a couple of years, just before Christmas two thousand and one, I was an ET Three, being brought up on charges of UA and resisting apprehension. Captain Rabb, Commander as he was then, was appointed to me as my defence counsel." Jen gave a sort of bitter-sweet smile, "Lieutenant Singer, do you remember her?"

"Oh yeah I remember her. She is not an easy person to forget," Victor said grimly.

Jen nodded, "She did seem to go out of her way to make people dislike her. But, that's not the point for the moment; she was the prosecutor in my case. Anyway my case came up at Christmas, and when the Captain found out I was given a choice to serve in the Navy or serve six months in the Washington County jail, he argued that my enlistment was false and that I should be released from the Navy. Lieutenant Singer, of course argued that there had been a constructive enlistment, but nothing could be settled until the transcripts of my civilian trial received at JAG.

"The Captain was supposed consign me to the secure barracks at Anacostia, but they were closed for the Christmas break. My dad, dearest daddy, was his normal lovable and loving self…" Jen's voice became markedly bitter and her self-deprecating grin completely disappeared she mentioned her father. "The logical thing, the correct thing, for the Captain to have done would have been to hand me over to the MPs and leave me in the brig over the break. But he didn't. After running around northern Virginia and Maryland all afternoon and evening, somehow or other he persuaded Colonel Mackenzie to let me sleep on her couch. And then when something else went wrong, instead of leaving it to the MPs to bring me back when I ran away, he came after me himself. I'd already asked Colonel Mackenzie why he bothered so much with me, and she said that was because he cared and I guess when he came after me that proved it. He gave me a sort of mini lecture too, and made me see that I could be so much more, so I ended up pleading guilty, doing my thirty days in the brig, then when I served my time, I applied for Legalman school, probably the best decision I ever made. In fact," Jen said thoughtfully, "up to that time it was probably the only good decision I'd ever made. So I changed rates, was assigned to the Seahawk, where I was Lieutenant Roberts' Legalman until he was injured, and I continued in that slot until the Seahawk returned to Norfolk at the end of the cruise.

"And don't ever tell me that the gods haven't got a twisted sense of humour, because after Lieutenant Roberts was sent home, his replacement was Lieutenant Singer. No, Victor, don't pull a face like that, she seemed much happier while she was on board ship. Maybe because it was only the two of us together, and I wasn't any threat to her ambitions, but whatever the reason, we got on okay. Right, she was never going to be Miss Congeniality, but she was a nicer person on the Seahawk than her reputation said she might have been."

Victor was puzzled, and the expression on his face said as much as he shook his head, "This has got to sound wrong, but from what you just said, you liked Lieutenant Singer better nor you did your dad?"

"Ha! Dearest daddy!" Jen said bitterly, "Damn straight I liked the lieutenant better than him." She looked at Victor, "You're not going to let this one alone are you?"

Victor took a sip from his coffee and looked gravely at Jen before he answered, "I don't reckon I am."

"I can sum up my dad with one example. When the Commander took me all the way up to Hagerstown, to see if dad would accept responsibility for me over the Christmas break, he opened the door he looked us up and down - we were both in service dress blue – and bear in mind he hadn't seen me since before I enlisted, never even came up to Boot Camp to see me graduate, the first words out of his mouth were to Captain Rabb, 'What did Jennifer do now?' Not a single word of welcome to his only child."

Victor thought of his own large family. Sure, there had been squabbles growing up, and he was the only boy among five children, but it would never have crossed any of his family's mind for the first words after separation from a family member to be ones of accusation. Again he shook his head, "You don't mention your mom...?"

Jen shook her head, and swallowed to clear the sudden lump in her throat, "Okay, daddy was a Minister of the church. He loved his God, he loved his church, and he loved his congregation. Seems all that loving didn't leave none left over for mom or me. At times, it seemed that instead of loving us he hated us. Man, he used to get so mad at us. I don't think he ever hit mom, but I can't be sure of it, he sure was angry enough to, seems he was that way most the time. Then mom got sick, the doctors said it was cancer, but I always reckoned it was heartbreak from being neglected and ignored. I was twelve when she died. And all the anger and the neglect, well, it all came to me. But most the time he just ignored me. Oh, he did his 'Christian Duty', I had clothes on my back, there was food on the table – if I prepared and cooked it. Then when I got to about fourteen I started filling out, and boys started noticing me. Well I didn't get no appreciation at home, I guess I was starved of affection, so when the boys started noticing me, I started into noticing them right back. Of course, that made me a scarlet woman, worse than the whore of Babylon. So, I left, and there wasn't much of anything that I didn't try, drinking, under-age sex, hanging around with bikers, about the only things I didn't do were drugs and tobacco. I was getting a real rep, and dear daddy used to preach about me on Sunday's. Did you ever hear the parable about the farmers who carelessly scattered their seed? Well I was the seed that fell on stony ground. Daddy never seem to see the irony in that parable, in that he was the farmer. Every so often, I'd get rounded up by the police and brought home in a patrol car, right in front of the neighbours, and that was a shame on daddy he said and again he'd preach about me next Sunday how I was a disgrace and a failure, but at least he was noticing me, and I'd stick around for a few days until he stopped noticing me, then I was off again.

"Somehow, I finished high school, but then I got picked up for kiting a couple of checks and a bit of shoplifting. The judge gave me the choice. I chose the Navy. And the rest you know."

Victor pursed his lips, his admittedly short experience as a sheriff's deputy in New Mexico had brought him into contact with kids who were running a bit wild. Some of them, like Jen, got a wake-up call and turned their lives around, others went to the bad. So he knew, probably better than Jen, how close she had come to slipping all the way into the life of a professional criminal. But the important thing was, in his eyes, that she hadn't.

"So, you credit Commander Rabb, sorry, Captain Rabb, with saving your six?"

Jen nodded, "Without him I'd have been out of the Navy, gone back to Hagerstown and gotten back with my old gang…" She gave a snort of self disgust, "The last time I checked more than half of them were dead or serving long jail terms. And there, to paraphrase an old saying, but for the faith that the then Commander Rabb had in me go I."

"Jen, you'll probably think that this is none of my never-mind, but when you talk about the Captain, your face kinda goes soft, you smile a bit, and your voice takes on this… extra quality. And I need to ask, how exactly do you feel about Captain Rabb.?"

Jen stared at Victor for a long moment, "I love him," she said simply, "but I am not in love with him. He is the only man I ever met, from the age I was fourteen, who did something for me without expecting anything in return. And it didn't stop there, when I needed to find somewhere to live, he needed someone to help him look after his ward, to be there for her when we was away. He didn't hesitate, he asked me for help, and I moved in with his ward, into the apartment next door to the commanders, and again, he didn't ask and he didn't expect anything from me, except that I be a role model for his ward. You can't imagine how it felt to be trusted to that extent, how it felt to someone to have that much faith in me, that I would come good, and I wouldn't screw the pooch, especially after my testimony at his court martial came damn near to convicting him. Captain Rabb isn't quite a father figure, and he is not really a big brother, but we spent ten months living next door to each other, and I guess as much as an officer and enlisted can be, we are friends. And I'm possibly a little closer than that to Mattie."

Victor looked at her in wonder and once again shook his head, "Okay."

"Okay?" Jen queried, "Is that it? No comments? No questions?"

"No, I asked a question; you answered it, what more needs to be said?"

It was Jen's turn to look at Victor in wonder for a long moment, before she smiled gently and said, "Thank you."

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Johnny paused, red-faced with effort at the top of the long slope and waited for Julia to catch up, not that he had to wait very long, no more than a minute, he reckoned, and truth to tell he was grateful for the chance to wait and cool off a bit. It was warm, very warm down in the valley, and it had taken a fair effort to ride the bike up here, but now he was here, he could feel the slight breeze cooling his face and had a shrewd suspicion that Julia would welcome a rest too,

"Let's just sit here for ten," he suggested as she drew to a halt alongside him, "I could do with bit of breather. Reckon I pushed a little too hard on that hill!" he confessed with a grin .

Julia, equally red-faced and damply glowing. gave him a hard look, 'This had not better be for my benefit, I can keep going just as long as he does! Mind, he does look that hot and bothered.'

"Okay, it's certainly cooler up here than in the valley." Julia's eyes crinkled in amusement, as a vagrant thought struck her, "We are still in England, right?"

Johnny looked at her guardedly, "Uh... yeah, why?"

"Well, look at the sky, not even one cloud in sight."

Johnny grinned slightly, "And your point is? I mean, you're not complaining, surely?"

"No, not complaining, well not really, but this is England, in the summer isn't it supposed to rain?"

Johnny shook his head, "No, it's not supposed to rain but it usually does, so people – naming no names – have come away with a totally wrong idea."

Julia laughed and fluffed out her hair let the breeze cool the back of her head, "I guess we have a lot of ideas about England, about Britain, and the British. But… uh... I'm one of the lucky ones, I found me a teacher to knock all those wrong ideas out of my head."

"Oh, yeah?" Johnny grinned, "and who might he be, then?"

"Just some guy I met hanging around an army base… But he turned out to be pretty sweet in the end…"

"Just goes to show he is smarter than you." Johnny said as he brought one of the bike pedals round ready for his foot.

"And just how do you figure that?"

"'Cause he had you pegged as totally sweet for the first day he clapped eyes on you."

"He did?" Was all Julia could manage as Johnny's words and the smile that accompanied them turned her insides to liquid and her knees to Jello.

"Yep, he did." Johnny looked at Julia for a few seconds and figured he had hit her with enough for the moment, and his face relaxed into a grin. He made a show out of digging the trail map out of his pocket and leaning on the handlebars while he traced the route with his finger for Julia's benefit." The next section of the trail, about three miles, is pretty much level along this ridge-line, and here…" his finger circled an area about halfway along the section he'd indicated, "the guy at the hire centre reckons we stand a good chance of seeing some of those ponies I was telling you about."

Julia had regained her breath and enough of her composure to nod appreciatively, smile, and say, "Well, if you've got your breath back, why are we waiting?"

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Harm checked his watch, twelve forty hours; he was enjoying this ride, down a succession of two-lane, turning and twisting roads, passing through idyllic-looking villages, this was what England was supposed to be about, at least in the popular American imagination, although he did feel slightly uneasy at the tall hedges, trees almost, that bordered the roads for a good part of their length.

Gill had evidently recovered, at least somewhat, from the impact of all the crap he had dumped on her; as she'd indicated to leave the M40, she had taken a quick glance across at Harm and with a smile that was pure mischief had said, "Y'know, if we carried on up to the next junction and turned North instead of South, we could be at Mummy and Daddy's in less than hour..."

Harm wasn't about to bite this time, and in fact for most of the morning he had been contemplating making a visit to Gill's parents. Gill's granny had definitely reminded him of his own grandmother, and the Reverend Shephard reminded him of his stepfather, Frank. It was probably too much to hope for that Gill's mother would turn out to be another Trish, but he hadn't had much of a chance to speak with her and form an opinion. So he turned his head, and with a lazy smile said, "I don't think so, but what I was going to suggest was that you call them sometime this week, and we can go down to visit the them the weekend after next. Remember, I'm flying back to the States on Thursday for the appeal, and won't be back until Wednesday at the earliest."

Gill turned a surprised face to him, "if it's just the one day hearing, why such a long stay?"

"The following Monday is labour day, and that's a federal holiday. I'm cautiously optimistic about the appeal, and if we win, then I have to start making arrangements to get Mattie over here, and I won't be able to do that on the Monday. I doubt I'll be able to get on the same flight as myself to come back, so I'll need to get back, and then for her to follow on, but because she's in a wheelchair, there's extra preparations to be made."

"You're doing it again," Gill smiled having risked another quick glance across the width of the car, "you're lighting up, and it's wonderful to see! If just talking about your Mattie does that for you, I can't wait to see the effect she has when she gets here!"

"Well, I just hope the two of you hit it off, Mattie's got red hair, a mass of it, almost totally untameable, and a temper to match, and she doesn't forgive very easily. Even after we found out that her dad hadn't been driving the night her mom was killed, it still took a couple of months before she was ready to talk to him."

"And she's got to be your priority, Harm; so if she and I don't hit it off?"

"My opinion on that hasn't changed. We're both adult, we're both free of other entanglements, we're not in the same chain of command, and… and… and you're very… important to me. Yes, you are right, Mattie is important too, but she's a teenager, and while I will do my utmost for her, she does not get a say in my personal life. She doesn't get to decide who I will and will not date. She doesn't get to decide with whom I have a relationship. So if you and she don't get on, then she and I will just have to butt heads for a while until she finally accepts that the status is going to remain approximately quo."

Gill fell silent for a few moments, "Okay, that sounds if you're putting your foot down with a firm hand, but what happens the weekend after next if she's with us?"

"Well, then," Harm grinned, "I have a rather strong feeling that I'm going to be calling you, and asking your mom if she's willing to accept another guest."

"Oh, there's no doubt of that, but from your point of view, with Mattie, would it be wise?"

"Do you have any doubt that your mom and your granny couldn't tame Mattie within minutes?"

"Mummy, well, maybe. Granny? No doubts whatsoever!"

Both broke into laughter at the thought of Mattie in a head-to-head with Granny Shephard.

Ever since checking his watch Harm had been on the lookout, and at last he saw what he wanted, "Pull in up ahead, it's lunchtime."

Almost instinctively Gill complied with the unconsciously uttered tone of command in Harm's voice, but as she braked to a gentle halt in the car park of The Old Crown on the corner of Faringdon High Street. But then asked, "Are you sure about this, because after that breakfast I could quite easily go without lunch."

"Not a good idea," Harm grinned as he unbuckled his seat belt, "I thought even a soldier should know you always eat when you have the opportunity."

Gill shook her head, "on exercise, or ops, absolutely. And what's more you sleep any chance you get as well. But as we're just tooling along country roads, the chances of us not getting back for dinner are pretty damn remote, wouldn't you say?"

"You do have a point, but my Yeoman, Martinez, has been enthusing about Ploughman's lunches, ever since your Bombardier treated her to one. And as that there sign says, 'traditional pub grub'…"

Gill gave him a resigned grin, and reached for her own seat belt buckle, "He's not my Bombardier any more! But okay, okay you've convinced me, a ploughman's and a half of shandy would be pretty good right now. But I am definitely going to have to hit the gym on Monday – with a vengeance!"

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

"Seems that some things are the same on both sides of the ocean," Victor observed with an ironic grin as he surveyed the row of checkout. Of the twelve in the store, only five were operating, and the line for each of them was becoming longer by the minute.

"You didn't have to come with me, I know just how much men hate grocery shopping." Jen said with an answering grin.

"Hey, I wasn't exactly unenthusiastic when it came to loading the cart," Victor defended himself, "I was just remarking that the lines here just about the same as they are back home."

Jen looked at him thoughtfully, "Okay… I'll admit, you were pretty useful in finding things and throwing them into the cart, but you can't tell me that you didn't have an ulterior motive."

"And what would that be?" Victor asked innocently.

"Well, I get the feeling that you wouldn't have been half so helpful, if you weren't angling for an invitation to dinner this evening."

"And your evidence for that supposition would be?"

"Um… Let's see now, there was the matching pair of rib-eye steaks, two large potatoes, ideal for baking, that family-sized bag of shredded salad leaves… Oh, and let's not forget the two bottles of Californian Zinfandel…"

"So… I guess I'm busted?" Victor asked mournfully.

"Oh, you are _so_ busted!" Jen smiled back.

"But, do you mind?, If you've got any doubts, or you're not sure, just say so, and I will understand."

"No…" I don't mind, Jen said slowly, "as long as you know, right from the get go that it is dinner, and only dinner."

"I hadn't expected anything else," Victor said, fixing Jen with an earnest look from his dark eyes.

Jen smiled again, this time with a touch of relief, "Good, now that's out of the way, we're not going argue about who is paying for what are we?"

"I shouldn't think so," Victor said as he placed the steaks, potatoes, salad and wine on the belt, and then slapped a 'Next Customer' sign down behind them before Jen could start unloading the rest of the cart.

"Victor!" she objected.

"I thought we weren't going to argue about this," he replied blandly.

"But you paid for lunch too," Jen argued.

"And as you don't have outdoor cooking facilities, it's you will be cooking this evening, so I buy, you cook, we both eat, and then we can share the KP duties!"

Jen gave him a fulminating glance, "Do you know what your trouble is?" she demanded.

"And what would that be?" Victor asked innocently, as he winked at the checkout operator, and held out his credit card.

"You've been spending far too much time hanging out with lawyers!" Jen said emphatically through her grin.

"And you haven't?" he retorted with a lift of an eyebrow.

Jen adopted a superior expression, and lifted her chin defiantly, "I will confess to having spent some time in the company of attorneys, but through the exercise of willpower, I have refrained from letting them corrupt me." she said loftily, and then spoiled the effect by giggling.

Victor looked at her consideringly, "I can see that not only will getting to know you be an education, but also it looks like I'm going to have my hands full!"

Jen pays the cashier before she allowed her full-blown smile to break out, revealing her usually hidden deep dimple in her right cheek, "Hands full? You should be so lucky!"

"I have had a couple of wins on the state lottery," Victor warned her.

Jen raised an eyebrow, but with her smile still in place, murmured, "Interesting."

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

"There she is, Mister Rabb, with a half tank of diesel, and six months road tax. We've sent the log book off to DVLA, and you should get it back within a couple of weeks. She's not due her first MOT until the first of September next year. The satnav has been fitted and set up for you as per your instructions, and the keys are in the ignition. Happy motoring!"

With a final smile the salesman stepped back, leaving Harm and Gill to admire his latest purchase. She wasn't new, but it just under two years old she looked it, and came with a three-year warranty, good at any Subaru franchise in the UK.

The distinctive Subaru blue paintwork had been polished to a deep gloss shine, as had the metal fittings, and windscreens front and rear, as well as the side windows had all been carefully cleaned, and although he knew it was absurd, and the Subaru had none of the eye-catching power of his beloved 'vette, Harm still felt a glow of pride in ownership.

Gill had seen that same smile on her brother's face each time he had acquired new vehicle, and smiled indulgently. "What's your plan for heading back to Northolt?"

Harm looked blank for a second, and then slightly embarrassed, "Uh… I… um… wasn't really paying that much attention to the route on the way here, so I figure, I can either follow you, or go where the satnav takes me, and then you can follow me…"

Gill nodded, "if you follow the satnav, I reckon it'll take you down to the M4, then the M25 and then the A 40, and given it's your first driving a new car probably better than trying to push it around the narrow roads around here. Just don't get carried away with your new toy and remember that if there are no speed limit signs, that the speed limit on dual carriageway is is seventy miles per hour, and if you're on a road that has no central reservation…" Gill thought furiously for a second or two as she tried to remember the American term, "that is, Meridian strip, then the speed limit is fifty!"

Harm grinned, "Aye aye, ma'am! I'll surely try to remember!"

Gill shook her head, "Just make sure you do!" she said severely as she turned back to her own car, and then muttered something under her breath, and paused to glare at Harm before she slid behind the wheel.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Johnny held on to both bikes as Julia knelt on one knee, elbows braced against her rib cage as she adjusted focal length and focus on her camera's zoom lens. Satisfied at last focus, focal length and exposure she set about taking photographs of the twenty or so New Forest ponies, who obviously used to human presence seemed to raise no objection to Julia's approach to within about forty feet of them, and continued grazing on the tough local grass.

Julia has taken about twenty shots, when a yell of, "Mum! Look, horses!" alarmed the herd stallion and with a whistling whinny he sounded his alarm call and racing in a semicircle between his mares and the incomers he pointed them away from the possible danger.

Johnny wasn't quite sure, but he thought he heard a muffled obscenity coming from Julia, as she held the shutter release button down and blasted off multiple exposures as the feral ponies disappeared from view.

In the meantime Johnny turned his head towards the source of the disturbance to see a bicycle-mounted family of mother, father, and two pre-teenage girls, the older of whom complained scornfully to her sister, "Well done moron, you just scared them all away!"

"Caitlin!" her mother reprimanded her, "how many times do you have to be told not to talk to your sister like that!"

"While she shouldn't act like that." The older girl pouted, "we've been cycling all afternoon, and those are the first ponies we've seen, and she had to open her big mouth and scare them all off!"

Julia and walked back to Johnny side by now, and although she too was annoyed at losing her subjects, she managed a wry grin and whispered, "And now it's the other one's big mouth scaring me off! Let's get out of here!" She threw a leg over her bike and fumbled her feet onto the pedals.

"I couldn't have put it better myself," Johnny agreed as he set off after her.

Fifty yards down the track Johnny pulled alongside her,"What was that bit at the end there, it sounded like you put a whole belt through it," he quipped.

"What?" Julia asked, turning a puzzled face towards him until after a second or so she realised what he had meant, "Oh, this is my digital camera, the one I'm still learning, if you hold the shutter release down, it just keeps taking exposures, at a rate of six per second…"

Johnny's face expressed his surprise, "Six per second? That's three hundred and sixty per minute, not bad!"

"Not bad?" Julia queried indignantly, "that's pretty damn good if you ask me!"

"That's what I said," Johnny protested with an exaggeratedly innocent expression on his face, "I said it wasn't bad, and if something's not bad, then it must be good!"

Julia glowered at him, "You've been hanging around with attorneys!" she accused him.

"Not guilty," Johnny defended himself, but then added with a grin, "I have profited though, from my experience of having four sisters!"

Julia pedalled for a moment or two in silence, and then with a sly grin said, "By saying that, you do realise just how much blackmail material you've given me."

"Damn! Never thought of that! Oh well, I'll just have to rely on your sweet, good nature."

"Are you absolutely sure I've got one?"

"Well, I thought I was… I guess I'll just have to wait and see about that won't I?"

"Indeed you will!" Julia grinned in triumph.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Gill blotted her streaming eyes and sniffled, "The next time I offer to help you with prepping dinner, I am not going to be relegated to peeling and chopping the onions!" she said mutinously, pointing a ridiculously sharp (in her opinion) knife in Harm's general direction.

Harm paused in the action of turning the pasta maker's handle, "Do you want to change jobs?" He asked mildly.

Gill sighed theatrically, "No, not now, there's no point in two of us suffering!"

"Remember, you did volunteer, you could have stayed in the lounge reading your glossy magazine"

'Yeah, I could, but then I'd have missed watching you at work in the kitchen.' Gill thought, but said, "Next time I will!"

Harm spared her another glance "Yeah, riiight..." he drawled before he turned his attention back to making the pasta for this evening's dinner, and so missed the glare that Gill turned on him.

He didn't miss the impact though, of the slice of onion on the back of his neck, and neither did he miss with the ball of pasta dough that he sent back across the kitchen in reply.

The next few minutes were spent in laughter and rapid dodging movements as both Gill and Harm tried to maximise the number of hits they inflicted and minimise the number of hits they received. Harm eventually backed Gill away from her source of ammunition and into a corner of the kitchen, where she threw her hands up and laughingly called out, "I surrender! I surrender!"

"Unconditionally?" Harm demanded, hefting another ball of pasta dough.

"On terms?" Gill hopefully offered the alternative.

"What terms?" Harm asked.

"Would a kiss or two be acceptable? Gill gurgled with laughter.

"Or three, or four, or more…" Harm made a counter offer.

Gill was having a hard time holding back her laughter, but nodded her head, as she stepped forward into Harm's embrace, "I think we have a basis for negotiation."

"I think we do," Harm agreed as he tipped her chin up with a gentle finger.


	31. Chapter 31

**31**

"Well it wasn't quite what I had planned for dinner, and it was a bit later than I'd aimed for, but..."

"But we... I... let my inner child have a little too much freedom," Gill grinned unrepentantly, as she swallowed her last spoonful of tomato soup.

"True... you did," Harm agreed in mock reproof.

"But you didn't have to respond in kind!" Gill observed.

"Oh, yes I did... what sort of soldier would I have been if I wouldn't have responded to an unprovoked assault?" Harm defended himself, his eyes dancing with amusement at the absurdity of the conversation.

Gill tucked a newly washed strand of hair, that had escaped her pony-tail, back behind her ear, "Well you could at least have used something less messy – and sticky – for ammunition!" she mock-complained.

"It was all I had to hand, so I just made the best us of the available resources," Harm said loftily as he picked up the last fragment of his toasted cheese sandwich, his own hair still damp from the shower.

It was much later than Ham had intended, although the food fight had ended sweetly, there had been a deal of clearing up to do in the kitchen, and then each had had to take turns in the bathroom to get rid of the evidence, and finally clothes had to be put through the washing and drying cycle, and it was only when this last step was under way that their minds had returned to the subject of dinner.

"Uh... It's a bit late to start cooking now," Harm had observed as he checked the pantry for something that wouldn't take too long.

"And whose fault is that?" Gill asked in wide-eyed innocence from the safety of a kitchen chair.

"Well, I didn't start the fight," Harm replied virtuously.

Gill giggled, "No, but you found a sweet way of ending it."

Harm looked over his shoulder at her grinned, "Yeah, I thought it was pretty good substitute for the Treaty of Versailles. Ah..." He gave a smile of satisfaction, "Tomato soup!" He exclaimed triumphantly, holding up a brightly labelled can, "with a bowl of that inside us and a couple of broiled cheese sandwiches, we won't need anything more!"

Gill looked up in mild surprise as she made the translation from broiled to grilled, "That's an unusual combination…" she commented.

It was Harm's turn to be surprised, "Unusual? Oh, I thought it was standard, I always had it as a kid, if I was sick or upset. Grams would sit me down with a bowl of tomato soup and broiled cheese sandwiches. Besides," his forehead creasing in thought, "it's not that strange of a combination, I've seen cheese and tomato sandwiches on sale almost everywhere."

"Yeah, that's true enough," Gill admitted slowly, "I have even had toasted cheese and tomato sandwiches, just that I never thought of having tomato soup with sandwiches, although again, yes, I have had toasted croutons with soups."

"So, not so strange after all?" Harm grinned.

Gill grinned right back at him, "I didn't say that."

"Yeah... riiight!" Harm scoffed and pretended to duck while Gill looked around as if in search of a handy missile and then both broke out into laughter that was ended by Harm holding out his hands to Gill and helping her to her feet so that he could hold her in his arms and kiss her again.

Their late dinner finished it took only a few minutes to tidy the kitchen once more before they adjourned to the lounge with a mug of hot chocolate each, and again this was a new experience for Gill, never before having tried the drink with a marshmallow floating in it.

The drinks were quickly and silently finished, each content just to be in the other's company, and to relax after what had turned out to be a long day, until a yawning Gill received a somewhat sticky series of good night kisses and was gently herded towards the stairs while Harm rinsed out the mugs they had just used before he secured all doors and hatches and headed, in his turn, for the bathroom and then bed.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

"That's it... I am officially stuffed full," Jen observed as she pushed her chair back from the table and looked with some surprise at her empty plate – she hadn't thought she could finish the meal, but had proved herself wrong.

"So... you don't want any ice-cream?" Victor grinned across the table at her as he casually twirled the stem of his still half-full wine glass between long, strong fingers.

Jen shook her head, "Nope, am flup... well for the moment, anyway..."

"So, what say we stack the dishes and take our drinks into the lounge, and give our dinners half an hour or so to settle?" Victor indicated the two arm-chairs and the coffee table at the far end of the tiny flat's combined dining and living room.

"OK... that is if you don't mind me not drinking any more; well, no more wine for me, but I could get some coffee going?" Jen suggested.

Victor nodded, "Suits me; I don't need any more wine," he replied. "So, you start on the coffee, and I'll stack the dishes."

Coffee drunk and ice-cream eaten, Jen and Victor returned to the kitchen where true to his word, Victor helped Jen police the area and with the washing up, until with fresh coffee they returned to the lounge area and chatted idly for a half hour or so, until at last with a glance at his watch, Victor grinned apologetically, "It's later nor I thought and I'd best be going." He hesitated for a moment, "Jen, I've really enjoyed today, and I'd like to do it again sometime... would you mislike it if I called you, and maybe we could arrange to do something together again?"

Jen also stood and then searched his face, "I think I'd mislike it more, if you didn't call," she said thoughtfully but with a smile, "And as for enjoying today, I don't know how you can say that. When all you've done is tote the last of my stuff from Northolt to here and help me unpack and then go grocery shopping."

"Funny as it sounds, I really did have a lot of fun," Victor claimed, as he shrugged into his jacket and then opened the door, and gazing into her dark brown eyes, he smiled and said softly, "Good night, Jen."

"Good night, Victor," she replied in barely more than a whisper, and then leaning in, she gave him a soft kiss on the cheek, and before he could react, smiled again and said gently, "Shoo."

"I'm a-shooing, ma'am, I'm a-shooing!" he grinned and with a broad wink stepped out through the door and made his way to the entrance lobby, looking back over his shoulder as he reached the front door, to see Jen still holding open the door to her flat as she watched him, go.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Harm woke up early, just as the grey of dawn is beginning to give way to the blue skies of morning, and rolling out of bed he pulled on a tank top and running shorts before lacing his running shoes on to his feet. Making a detour to the bathroom to brush his his teeth and leave a short 'gone for a run' note on the over-washbasin shelf for Gill, he quietly crept downstairs to avoid disturbing her and equally quietly closed the front door behind him before starting set of stretching and warm-up exercises prior to setting off on his run, around the airfield perimeter track.

Starting at jog he made his way out of what the RAF called the domestic area of the station and around the back of the officers' and sergeants' messes before he came to the first of the hangars and onto the perimeter track itself where he finally opened up and increased his stride, and as he did so wondered if he would run into, or past, Jennifer Coates again before he remembered that she had moved off-base into the flat at Stanmore. 'Note to self' he thought as his long legs covered the ground, 'check with Jen that everything's okay with the new place!'

It was obviously too early, or maybe the thought of pounding the tarmac didn't appeal to anyone else this morning, but Harm had the circuit to himself and although he didn't mind running alone, he rather missed having the challenge of someone up ahead whom to catch up to, or even pass. Even so, he clocked a pretty good time and it was just under forty minutes later that he made the left turn back into the street leading to his front door.

Letting himself in almost as quietly as he had left he paused in the entrance hall and listened for any signs of life. The house still seemed silent, and poking his head around the edge of the kitchen door he saw that it was in the same condition as he'd left it last night, evidence of a lack of use and suggesting that Gill was still upstairs.

Climbing the stairs to the landing he saw that her door was open, but the bathroom door was closed, and listening closely he could hear the sound of the shower. 'At least she would have seen the note and knows that I haven't abandoned her', he told himself, as he stepped into his bedroom, and stripped off his sweat dampened tank top and shorts and then wrapped himself in his bath robe while he waited for Gill to finish in the bathroom.

Five minutes later he heard the bathroom door opening and quickly stepped out onto the landing, "Hey, good morning, boo'ful," he hailed her.

Gill stopped, wrapped in her silk kimono, with a towel wrapped around her head and her face free of even the little make-up she normally wore she was still, to Harm's eyes, as beautiful a woman as he had ever see. Even Mac, who had always been reckoned to be beautiful no longer held any allure when compared to Gill. The Englishwoman lacked the hardness around the eyes that had sometime – more frequently with the passage of time – settled on Mac's face and her smile as she said, "Hey, yourself," was soft, sweet and tender.

Harm tilted her face up with a long finger and kissed her gently as she melted into his arms, and for a moment they stood with their arms around each other, until Gill chuckled, "You really do need to take a shower!"

Harm stood back, but kept hold of both Gill's hands in his, "Are you suggesting that I am less than fragrant?" he demanded.

"No, not at all!" Gill chuckled, "I'm saying that you stink!"

"Oh..." Harm pretended to be crestfallen, "I thought you were..."

Gill disengaged her hands from his, and placing them on his shoulders, she turned the unresisting Harm to face the bathroom door, "Go... shower... get dressed. And while you're doing that, I'll make a start on breakfast!"

Harm stopped and looked back over his shoulder, "You don't have to do that... leave it to me, I won't be too long..."

Gill put on her command face, "Don't argue, Sailor... go! Shower! Dress!"

Harm couldn't help himself, he chuckled, "Aye, aye, ma'am!"

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Johnny Walker had his eyes closed and his head thrown back, almost deafened by the sound of the shower in his ears, and by his own voice, as he vigorously soaped himself down to the somewhat inappropriate and only half-remembered strains of 'Gonna Wash That Man Right Out of My Hair', so he was surprised into giving a yelp of alarm as a pair of hands covered his eyes and the point of a warm tongue dabbed at the sensitive skin behind his ear.

Recovering quickly, he spun around and squinting through the water now pounding on his face he made out a giggling Julia, "Good morning!" she smiled.

Johnny tried to scowl, but gave it up as a bad job, and surrendered, "Good morning!" he replied and stepped forward, leaning in to kiss Julia.

"M'mm..." she murmured, "A fresh, clean soldier, first thing in the morning... what more could a girl want," and keeping hold of his hand stepped backward out of the shower. Johnny hesitated long enough to reach back and turn off the shower before allowing Julia to lead him back into the bedroom.

"Uh... that depends on what you have in mind..." Johnny grinned, trying to pretend nervousness.

"Oh... just getting him all hot and sweaty again," Julia chuckled mischievously as the back of her knees bumped against the bed.

"He might not be in the mood for that sort of thing," Johnny hedged as he twisted around and fell backwards onto the bed, pulling Julia down on top of him.

"He might also be lying," Julia pointed out as she wriggled against the proof of his duplicity.

"True, he might be..." Johnny said as he reached a hand up to cup the back of Julia's neck and bring her face down for his kiss.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

"No, you cooked, so you don't get to do the cleaning up. I get to do the KP!" Harm said firmly. "You get to go and sit in the lounge and take five... it's only one pan and a couple of plates, knives and forks..."

"And the coffee machine, and the OJ glasses, and the coffee mugs," Gill finished the list for him, "And if you let me help, then I won't have to sit in the lounge alone waiting for you, I can be here with you, even if it is just for a few minutes! So, are you going to move over and let the dog see the rabbit, or am I going to have to pull rank on you?" she finished with a smile.

Harm shrugged in resignation, "That is so not fair! I can out-reason you, out-argue you – it's what I do for a living, but that smile... that's dirty pool!"

"But effective!" Gill said smugly.

"Damn straight!" Harm said, giving in with a smile of his own as he took a step to one side to let Gill join him at the kitchen sink.

As Harm had predicted, the post-breakfast clean down didn't take many minutes and a very sort time sufficed to see them both back in the lounge, side by side on the couch, with Ham's arm draped along the couch back, and Gill leaning against the side of his chest.

"So... what would you like to do today?" Harm asked.

"Leaving it up to me?" Gill asked in mock surprise.

"Yeah, I figured that as yesterday was all about me – well, more or less – that you should decide what we should do today."

"Well, that's fair enough," Gill conceded, "Let me think for a moment... Are you up to taking me for a spin in your new car?" she asked innocently after a few seconds of thought.

"What do you have in mind?" Harm asked curiously.

"Don't want to commit yourself before you know the details, huh?" Gill chuckled, "Well, can't say as I blame you! If it's all the same to you, I'd rather not got for a pub or even a restaurant lunch today... so how about we stop at the local superstore and buy in enough for a picnic for the two of us. Then we could drive down to Portsmouth – it's only about an hour and a half away, especially at this time on a Sunday morning."

"Sounds okay to me, but what's at Portsmouth?"

"Oh, just a relic from when Britannia really did rule the waves, HMS Victory – perhaps you've heard of her?"

"I may be an attorney and a former aviator," Harm puffed, pretending to be affronted, "And I may even be a poor, ignorant colonial, but we did study Naval history at the Academy, and seem to recall something about the Victory and Admiral Lord Nelson and a battle off Cape Trafalgar..."

"Well done!" Gill cried in mock admiration, "Go to the top of the class and hand out the pencils!"

"I'll hand something else out if you're not careful, girl!" Harm grumbled, but with a smile.

"Oh yeah, promises, promises!"! Gill quipped.

"Yeah, and I never made a promise I didn't intend to keep!" Harm warned her.

There was something in his voice that made Gill look up to see that there was a warmth in his eyes that made her breath catch in her throat, and sitting up, she added hurriedly, "And then after we've seen the ship – they let us on board, you know, and when we're 'tween decks, it really will be a matter of duck or grouse – and anyway after we've seen the ship, we could head back and stop on the downs for our picnic..."

Harm nodded, his smile still tugging at the corners of his lips, "Sounds like a plan to me... I'll just go and get a picnic blanket, and then we can be off!"

"Aye, aye, Cap'n," Gill said in the best Long John Silver accent she could manage and threw him a horrible parody of a Naval salute.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Jen sighed with relief and straightened, rubbing the small of her back with one hand while she placed the hot iron on the metal plate at the end of the ironing board before she disconnected it from the wall socket. 'All done,' she smiled with a mixture of relief and satisfaction, five white skirts and five white blouses, all crisply ironed ready for the coming week, but she did need a couple of pairs of pantihose to replace the pair that had gotten a run on Thursday, and a spare pair to tuck into her purse for emergencies. The gyrations she's had to go through on Thursday afternoon to prevent Victor and Captain Rabb from seeing the run behind her left knee had left feeling that she had just had a hard full hour's work out in the gym, which reminded her, she needed to find a route to keep up her running – especially if she was to have many more days like the last couple, pigging out like that with Victor!

Jen looked out the window, it was another glorious summer day, far to warm and sunny to spend the rest of the day getting the flat just so, that was probably best left for the evenings, or for days when the weather wasn't so good... besides, she really did need to buy those pantihose... and maybe a sandwich for lunch, and a bottle of water, and if she took a book with her she could probably find a park bench...

Almost without thinking she drifted through to the bedroom and stripping off her T-shirt and jeans, she slipped into a no-frills, knee length sun dress and pulled on a pair of strappy sandals, then with her sunglasses perched on top of her head she tucked her cell phone and her well-thumbed copy of John Grisham's 'The Firm' into her purse, and with a last look around the flat, let herself out, locked the door behind her and set out on the five minute stroll to the local stores.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Almost despite himself, Harm had been impressed by the Victory, especially by the durability of her timbers, a couple of moments of forgetfulness had forcibly reminded him that not only were they iron hard, but that there wasn't even enough headroom for him to stand between the deckhead beams. As for her overall size, he hadn't really known what to expect, but he had expected something, well... bigger, and he was astounded to find that she had accommodated eight hundred and fifty men in her less than two hundred feet of main deck, and he had come away from her with a new understanding of the old phrase of 'wooden ships and iron men' and a feeling of profound gratitude that he served in a modern navy.

He said as much to Gill as he negotiated the narrow streets leading from Portsmouth Dockyard and looked sideways across the width of the car as h waited for her response. "Yes," she said gravely, "We talk so glibly about our heritage, and our glorious past, but we rarely think about those men, and some women, who lived, fought and died under what we would consider to be horrendous conditions to bring about that glory! Sobering when you're brought face to face with it, isn't it?"

"It is," Harm agreed, "and in a way, even though I'm not British, I felt kinda humbled by it all."

"That's probably because you're a sailor," Gill commented presciently, "After all, there is still such a thing as the Brotherhood of the Sea, or at least so my own brother tells me!"

They both fell silent until Harm brought them clear of the old town and onto the open road where Gill opened the map she had brought with her, "At the next roundabout, about a mile ahead, turn right, that's the fourth exit, onto the B2146..."

Some forty minutes later after making a series of turns that baffled Harm's sense of direction and driving down a succession of narrow, twisting hedge-lined roads Gill smiled, "We're here!" she said triumphantly, "Pull over!"

"Where?" Harm asked, looking in vain for some sort of parking lot.

"Just pull off the road, just here by that stile!" Gill said pointing about twenty yards ahead and to the right.

With a mental shrug Harm did as he was told, and no sooner had he applied the emergency brake and killed the ignition than Gill was out of her seat and sliding to the ground, reaching back onto the rear seat for the hessian tote bag that contained their lunch and directed Harm, "Do you want to get the blanket out of the boot?"

"Where are we going?" Harm asked in some bemusement.

Gill pointed to the stile, "That's a public footpath that takes us up to the top of that ridge, and from there we can look south, across the Downs, all the way to the channel. It's only about a ten minute stroll, less if we bash on a bit."

"Lead on then, Captain!" Harm grinned, as he slung the blanket over one shoulder and the tote bag from the other.

Just as Gill had promised, from the ridge crest the view led down over sheep cropped grass upland, over deciduous woodlands to the cliffs that overlooked the English Channel, with the sprawl of Portsmouth off to the far right and a scattering of villages and the occasional farm buildings, mostly hidden from sight in the intervening valleys.

Harm spread the blanket and they both dropped onto it, reclining on an elbow and facing each other, while Gill broke out their lunch, the basis of which was a bought broccoli and mushroom quiche and a selection of salad sandwiches, followed by an apple apiece and washed down with what Harm considered to be grossly over-priced bottled water, the labels on which proclaimed it to come from the Cambrian Mountains of Central Wales.

"Well the cola was cheaper," Gill pointed out with a grin, "But no, you had to have the mineral water!"

"Damn straight," Harm, by now propped up on both elbows, grinned back, but his voice carried a serious undertone, "Have you ever read the ingredients, the list of crap they put into that stuff? Absolute poison!"

"But it tastes so goood!" Gill whined, causing Harm, in the act of taking a mouthful of the over-priced mineral water, and much to Gill's amusement, to gasp, choke and cough.

"You... you... are going... going to pay for that!" Harm gasped once he'd finished coughing.

"I'm sorry..." Gill said contritely, "but I just couldn't resist and... no... you know what? It was so damn funny, I'm not sorry at all!" she chuckled.

"Right! Then it's payback time!" Harm declared and rolling over to face her, he gently forced her to lie flat on the blanket.

"Okay, tough guy, now you've got me here, what are you going to do with me?" Gill challenged with a smile curving the corners of her mouth.

"This... and this... and this... and this..." Harm told her, punctuating each phrase with a thorough kiss, each of which were enthusiastically returned by Gill until finally they paused for breath.

"Thank God for that," Gill crowed, as she snuggled into Harm's side, her head resting on his chest so that she could look up into his face. "For a couple of minutes there I thought I'd have to beg!"

Harm bent his head as far as he could, and just managed to plant a kiss on her forehead, "You'll never have to beg for my kisses," he told her, "Yours are far too addictive for me to ever stop."

"Sometimes, you say the most romantic things," Gill teased him gently.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

Monday morning saw Harm bounding down the steps from his house heading to where his Yeoman-cum-driver stood waiting for him while she admired the gleaming blue Subaru on the hard-standing in front of the garage.

"Good morning, sir!" she greeted him, "New car, sir? Very nice!"

"Yes, I thought so too!" Harm agreed, and then as he noticed that she was moving a little slower than usual as she made to open the door, "You alright?"

"Yes, sir, why? Oh... no... nothing to worry about, sir. Johnny took me for a bike ride on Saturday, around the New Forest, and I hadn't ridden a bike for years, so my muscles aren't very happy with me!" Julia grinned as she explained.

Harm's back also had an opinion about the length of team he and Gill had spent on the hard ground. The South Downs were mostly solid chalk and the thin growth of sheep-cropped grass had done very little in the way of a cushion, "Yeah,what is it with these Brits... Captain Shephard dragged me hiking all over the south of England yesterday just to have a picnic on the hardest piece of ground she could find!"

Julia risked a look at her CO while she waited for the RAF Service Policeman to raise the barrier at the main gate, "But you enjoyed it, though, didn't you, sir?" she asked half anxiously.

"I did! We had a great weekend... and despite your aches and pains, I suspect you did too?"

"Oh, yes sir!" Julia said emphatically, and then to Harm's surprise blushed a vivid crimson, and fell into silence for the remainder of the drive into central London.

It was always a little bit of a culture shock, transitioning from the strictly civilian aspect of the exterior of the building into the disciplined Marine Corps environment of the entry lobby with the Marine manned Check Point and armed marine sentries posted just inside the doors. But this morning handed Harm a slightly greater than usual shock. Seated at the CP desk and wearing a uniform skirt that clearly showed her leg cast, Corporal Morrison, a pair of crutches leaning against the wall behind her, was busily engaged in checking in personnel and issuing them their security badges as they reported for duty.

"No! Don't get up, Corporal!" Harm hastily ordered her as she started to struggle to her feet, "As you were! But what are you doing here? You're supposed to be on hospital leave!"

"Yes, sir," she agreed, a slight blush appearing on her face, "But after a week just sitting around the barracks by myself, I was about ready to climb the walls or go UA, so Lieutenant Bennett arranged it for me to come in and help out here. Honestly sir, I'm much happier being here, I can take up some of the slack, and besides..." she dropped her voice to a conspiratorial whisper, "I've only got to groan a little and mugs of coffee appear like magic!"

"You, Corporal have the makings of a very wicked woman!" Harm told the blonde NCO severely.

"Oh, I do hope so, sir!" she grinned entirely unabashed by his censure.

"Just don't overdo it, okay, Corporal Morrison?"

"I won't sir," she assured him and satisfied on that score, Harm gave her a nod of acknowledgement and headed for the elevator.

**xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx**

"Damn Jarheads!" Julia grumbled as she put a mug of coffee on Jen's desk.

"Why, what have they done now?" Jen asked, surprised to feel herself bristling at the slightly derogatory nickname. 'Damn, Victor's getting to me!' she though but kept her eyes fixed on Julia as the other brunette slid behind her desk.

"Oh, it's Corporal Morrison... She's the boss' regular driver, but she messed up her ankle, I must have told you about her?"

"Yeah, you did," Jen agreed, "but go on..."

"She's persuaded her platoon leader to let her come in and work on the CP, so when I went to sign in this morning she gave me a third degree about the car and threatened me with all sorts of vengeance if she found even a scratch on it!"

"But she didn't mean them right?" Jen asked.

"No, of course not... but she winds me up. It's as if no-one but her has ever driven a car before!"

"Well, I shouldn't take it to heart, Julia, you know what these Marines are like with their machines!"

But before Julia could answer the door to Harm's office opened, and he walked out into the outer office. "I'm headed for Staff Call, normal routine," he looked at his two petty officers, "We're not to be disturbed unless nuclear war breaks out, or my mom calls! And when staff call is over, I shall want to speak to you Legalman One, and while I'm doing that, Yeoman Two, you can get ready to brief me on COMNAVFOREUR's softball match!"

Staff Call was of short duration, it appeared that the weekend had produced an abnormally well behaved crop of liberty-men, and nothing had happened to warrant the notice of Jag. An occurrence for which Harm was profoundly grateful. But he also had other matters on his mind, and as he brought the meeting to a close, he addressed Lieutenant Sullivan, "Once we're done here, give me ten minutes, and then come and see me in my office, please. And just a general reminder to you all, I shall be out of the office from midday Thursday until the following Wednesday, so if there is anything urgent that needs my attention, get it to me by secure tomorrow, at the latest, understood?"

The chorus of "Aye, aye, sir!" was forceful enough to put his mind at rest on that score and so he was able to stroll back to his office secure in the knowledge that as far as Jag side of his life was concerned, everything was under control

So his, "Legalman One?" as he walked into the ante-room to his officer was more of an invitation than a command, but Jen still leapt to her feet and stiffened into a brace for a second or two before she followed him into his inner sanctum and slightly nervously closed the door behind her.

"Come on in Jennifer, and take a seat," he offered, perching on the front corner of his desk, "How's the new apartment? All settled in?"

Jen sat in one of the wing chairs and nervously smoothed her skirt over her thighs, "Everything's fine, sir. All moved in – thanks to First Sergeant Galindez, he's been really great and really great help over the weekend."

"Has he, indeed?" harm said in a carefully neutral voice, but the hint of laughter at the corners of his eyes was enough to cause Jen to blush and drop her eyes.

"Yes, sir," a really huge help.

Harm nodded, and smiled, "Victor Galindez is a good man, Jennifer, I think very highly of him, both as a Marine and as a human being, if he was dating my sister – if I had one – I would have no complaints and no worries."

"Oh, we're not dating, sir!" Jen denied, but the blush deepened on her face.

"If you say so, but even if you were, Jennifer, regarding good order and discipline you wouldn't need to keep it a secret, you're both enlisted, not in the same chain of command and both of you are free to indulge in a relationship if you so wish, and I would have no objections either as your CO or your friend."

"No, sir," Jen said in a suffocated sort of voice.

Harm decided to let her off the hook for now, "So... back to duty matters; how's this SOFA investigation coming along?"

Jen perked up, "It's pretty grim, sir. There are at least a dozen instances in the time frame you gave me. Most of what I have so far is anecdotal accounts from TV and local newspaper reports, but I have had some success in getting hold of corroborating Police Reports, but not all jurisdictions are quite so willing to help us out. In fact, sir, I get the feeling that in some places the Police are highly suspicious of us, and anything we do that might impact on local law enforcement or the judicial system."

"As bad as that?"

"Yes, sir... but, sir... isn't the fact that they are suspicious of our motives pretty strong circumstantial evidence of US Forces acting in bad faith in the past?"

Harm nodded grimly, "You may be right, Jennifer, you may well be right. Now, if you can't get hold of any more Police Reports, and had to go with what you already have, how long before you could put together an abstract of evidence?"

"I could have it ready for your return from DC, sir?" Jen offered.

"Good, make it so! Dismissed... Oh, and Lieutenant Sullivan and Yeoman Two Martinez should be waiting to see me, send them on in, will you please?"

"Aye, aye, sir!""

Jen held the door open for Harm's next two visitors and then quietly closed it behind them, "Lieutenant Sullivan and Yeoman Two Martinez reporting as ordered, sir!" Theresa Sullivan announced them as they halted in front of his desk.

Harm seated himself in the big chair and nodded an acknowledgement, "Take a seat, ladies, and tell me just how COMNAVFOREUR's softball game is going to work!"


End file.
